T.O.P🐰👑

The biggest BIGBANG(ot4) Fan you'll ever Meet🫩 My bias is Gdragon but I'm too lazy to change anything.

[gds-daisy]

lollipop

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!reader, sub!jiyong, blowjob, cum eating, depictions of orgasms, dirty talk, praise, jiyong is pathetic in this, fluff.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: im slowly running out of ideas so enjoy this bootycheeks excuse of a blurb i whipped up. NOT PROOFREAD!

When you told Jiyong you had never given a blowjob to anyone before, he wasn’t expecting you to be this good. He was mistaken—here you were, in between his thighs and devouring him like your life depended on it. His hard and achy cock had only become more of an issue once you managed to get your mouth on it, but neither of you were complaining. If anything, the two of you were wondering why the hell you guys didn’t do this sooner. 

“Fuck jagiya…just like that,” Jiyong said breathily as he tilted his head back while you worked your divine magic on him with only your warm mouth. He couldn’t help but jerk his hips up into your face whenever your tongue swirled around that one sweet spot of his that he didn’t even know existed until now. Upon hearing his words, you only grew more eager to see him unravel for you. In response, you slowly slid one hand on both of his thighs as you knew you would need more support if you were going to take him even deeper and faster. He looked down at you once more and was met with your angelic gaze despite doing one of the most ungodly things imaginable. You were driving him crazy.

Without any sort of warning, you fastened your movements with both your skilled tongue and mouth, continuing to deepthroat him with every ounce of energy you had. Unsurprisingly enough, this alone had made Jiyong expel a pornographic moan from his quivering mouth that he had never made before. Prior to dating you, he had his fair share of blowjobs, but none of them had him feeling like he was floating on cloud nine like he was right now. “You’re fucking- ah!-crazy,” he groans out as you continue your relentless assault on his cock. What made his erection worse was hearing all of the nasty sounds filling the room—the sounds of skin slapping, each wet pop your mouth made while making him into a pathetic mess, the occasional sound of gagging—all of it. As for yourself, you could feel your panties grow more damp with each thrust of his hips and each sound that fell from his soft lips.

“Just like that...fuck” he says with a rather shaky voice, not even trying to hold back anymore. You nodded in approval before resuming your actions like it was first nature. Somewhere along the way, you felt the tip of his dick brush the back of your throat to which all you could do was gag around his length in response. You could feel yourself start to tear up due to just how deeply lodged he was  in your anticipating throat, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered to you in this moment was making him feel good even if it meant your face would be littered in tears later on. If anything, you were just as desperate as he was.

Still maintaining your harsh pace, you could feel Jiyong twitch inside you, which could only mean one thing—he was dangerously close to coming undone. It was just a matter of when. Your tongue took turns tracing itself along both his tip and the underside of his cock, making sure you gave all of your attention to every single inch of him. With each calculated lick and bobbing of your head, you earned a string of cacophonies from your boyfriend. “Please…’M gonna c-cum,” he whines in protest.

It only takes a few more licks and hollowing of your sore cheeks before he feels the hot coil in his stomach come undone and before he knows it, he releases hot ropes of his seed down your newly trained throat. Jiyong can’t stop himself from hiding the effect you had on him as he’s now panting like a rabid dog all while his hips meet either side of your mouth, trying to ride out his orgasm. Once he comes down from his much needed high, you swallow every single drop of his release without him instructing to do so.

As his eyes finally flutter open, he’s met with the most scandalous yet gorgeous sight ever. There you were, still slotted in between his thighs with both drool surrounding the corners of your mouth, threatening to fall down your face. The sight of that alone was enough to make him come untouched. You made him feel like a horny teenager all over again, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when you had just given him the best orgasm of his entire life.

He removes his softening dick from your mouth before wiping the messy edges of your mouth, making sure he left no drool or saliva behind. Your head is now resting on his toned thighs as you take a second to yourself. Jiyong could hear your steady breathing and all he could do was bring a hand to your now disheveled head of hair before running his fingers through it. He wish this moment could last forever. 

“Come here baby,” he says before motioning you to sit on his lap. You slowly get off the floor with some assistance from him just in case you were too out of it to get up by yourself. Before you know it, you’re now facing him while being seated on his lap. The two of you can’t help but stare into each others eyes with nothing but pure love behind them. You guys had just finished engaging in one of the most intimate acts possible and yet the two of you couldn’t control the swelling in one another's heart. 

“You did so well for me, baby,” he coos softly, his eye contact not wavering for a single second.

“Really? I was nervous I wouldn’t be good at it at all,” you admit sheepishly as a rosy blush now adorns your cheeks. 

“Are you kidding me sweetie? That was the best orgasm of my entire life,” Jiyong chuckles with adoration beaming from his eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it, Ji,” you say with a toothy grin.

“Are you sure you’ve never done that before because you could’ve had me fooled,” he says half jokingly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you joke back.

“How about this for a compliment?” Jiyong rhetorically asks.

His words earn a look of confusion from you, but not for long because before you can ask him what he meant, his lips find their way to yours, now kissing you with both passion and softness. Instinctively, you give into the kiss and you practically melt into his arms as his hands caress your back simultaneously. The taste of him was still embedded into his taste buds and made its way into his, but neither of you cared in such a domestic moment like this.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

taglist: @jiyongsangel

[loveesiren]

I’m unwell

[kloversung]

he in my tummy, bye bye to my ribs —

who knew that watching your best friend get this much bigger would make the "just friends" lie feel so dangerously thin ?

pairing: bang chan x reader, friends to lovers genre: smut; fluff warnings: explicit sexual content (minors do not interact), fingering, unprotected sex (please use contraceptives !), praise kink, size kink word count: 3.55k kysa's note: had this freaky title in my wips and it's finally here, drowning in praise (#lovepraisekink) hopefully it's as good as i had hoped to make it :) leave your thoughts in the comments, hope you enjoy ! xoxo.

you loved hanging out with your boys, you seriously did. you had met chan and jeongin in university three years ago — a tiny, tight-knit circle whose lives had become tangled in a way that could only be fated. out of everyone you’d met during those years, they were the ones who stuck. you loved them.

okay maybe someone a tad bit more.

bang christopher chan.

you had met him through shared music production classes back when you were all just trying to survive your first year. the first proper meeting between you all had happened while you and jeongin were drowning in a final project; chan had simply dropped by with coffee and some words of encouragement. you learned quickly that that was just how chan was — kind, caring and the literal definition of a gentleman.

he had kept that reputation up for years, whether he was picking you up from the library when you were too tired to walk or showing up at your door with food when you were drowning in assignments, detached from the world. before you knew it, he had nestled into a permanent, sweet corner of your heart. your crush on him kept growing but you reminded yourself that it's just chan — being kind and caring and him.

you controlled yourself, or rather, you feigned whatever remnants of control were left in your body. you feigned it so well that apparently jeongin knew, but the man in question remained oblivious. it was easy to hide because you believed that was just chan — the hardworking soul who cared for his two best friends with the same steady, protective warmth.

so all was good. you continued with the act.

because that’s what it was — an act. for years, you had lied, playing the part of the perfect friend, pretending his presence didn't make your pulse skip.

and that lie was currently biting you in the ass.

you were calm.

obviously.

most definitely.

it wasn't like the visuals were currently playing tug-of-war with your heartbeat.

it was your typical movie night, hosted at chan and jeongin’s place. jeongin had asked you to come early to help with snacks since chan was out at the gym. you had arrived with bags of groceries, helping him prep while he chattered away about the horror movie he had picked. while he handled the popcorn, you filled the bowls with crisps. while he stepped away for a call, you placed the bowls on the table and settled on the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through your phone.

then, the door swung open.

chan entered, his body covered in a slight sheen of sweat, gym bag slung over his shoulder. clad in a black chrome hearts hoodie, he looked so devastatingly hot it had your mouth drying, your eyes straying to the sliver of skin visible at his chest and neck.

"hey, sorry i'm late to my own hosting duties," chan spoke, locking the door behind him. his voice was a bit deeper than usual, roughened by his workout, and it sent a localized shiver straight down your spine. "missed my session this morning so i had to squeeze it in now. you been waiting long ?"

"ah, don't worry about it — besides, innie is way more fun to be around anyways." you managed to joke, your voice only slightly higher than usual as you tried to hide your flustered state behind a playful jab.

chan just chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that felt far too intimate for the living room. "is that so ? i'll remember that next time you need a coffee run."

just then, jeongin appeared from the kitchen and plopped down on the floor right in front of you, leaning his back against the sofa near your knees. he was already rambling about the jump-scares in the movie. you reached out instinctively, ruffling his hair as he talked; he was essentially the younger brother you had never had. there was a comfortable, protective warmth between you two — a bond so effortless that he felt like home. he was the only one who could get away with forcing you to watch a horror movie you were terrified of just by giving you those puppy eyes.

"don't listen to him," jeongin chirped, looking up at you with a grin. "i'll protect you from the ghosts. chan hyung is the one who's going to be screaming."

"in your dreams, kid," chan muttered, heading toward the bathroom.

a few minutes later, you caught a waft of fresh, musk-scented shampoo. before the scent could even reach your lungs, a freshly showered chan sat on the couch right beside you. his fingers carded through his wet ash-blonde hair, the hue shining as if it existed only to be his hair colour. once you moved past that, you froze.

you sat there, way too still for a living, breathing human body.

chan was sitting beside you, clad in a black tank top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

the fabric barely contained the gym results he had been hiding under heavy hoodies for months. his arms were thick, the skin pulled tight over hard muscle, and every time he moved, his pecs flexed against the thin material of the tank. when he leaned forward to grab his drink, the sight of his back muscles shifting and roping beneath the black fabric was enough to make your brain short-circuit. even his thighs, thick and straining against the hem of his shorts as he settled into the cushions, seemed to take up more space than they used to.

the couch felt smaller. the air felt thinner.

when did he get so big ? his arms, his shoulders, his back — the thought looped in your head, a frantic, rhythmic mantra while you stared at the tv without seeing a single thing.

you could feel the heat radiating off him, a steady pulse of warmth that made your own skin feel too tight. every time he shifted, the scent of his soap mixed with the lingering warmth of his skin hit you, sending your internal monologue spiraling into territory that definitely wasn't 'just friends'. you were so focused on the sheer physical gravity of him that you missed the way his eyes lingered on the side of your face — his expression unreadable, heavy, and far too focused.

"you okay ?" he murmured, the low vibration of his voice closer to your ear than you were prepared for. "you're awfully quiet tonight."

"​oh y-yea, it's n-nothing," you mumbled, mentally screaming at yourself for tripping over such simple words. you forced your eyes back to the screen, staring at the flickering shadows with a focus that was borderline painful.

​but just as your heartbeat started to settle into a manageable rhythm, the movie decided it was finished being subtle. a sudden, bone-chilling screech echoed through the speakers, paired with a visual so jarring that your body reacted before your brain could catch up.

​you flinched violently, your entire frame jolting sideways as you sought out the nearest solid thing to anchor you. your hands scrambled, fingers digging instinctively into the nearest source of heat — chan’s bicep.

​you didn't just touch him — you clung to him, your face pressing into the crook of his shoulder as you tried to hide from the screen. his arm was hot beneath your touch, so much wider and stronger than you had imagined when you were just looking at it. the sheer density of his muscle under the thin cotton of the tank top made your breath hitch for an entirely different reason than the ghost on screen.

​"shit," you breathed out against his skin, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. "i hate this. i seriously hate you both for making me do this."

​jeongin let out a delighted cackle from his spot on the floor, not even looking back as he reached for a handful of popcorn. "don't pass out before the second act !"

​chan didn't laugh. if anything, he seemed to go incredibly still. for a second, you worried you had overstepped, that the 'act' was finally broken. you started to pull back, your fingers beginning to loosen their desperate grip on his arm, but before you could retreat, his hand came up.

​his large palm covered your own, his fingers curling over yours to lock your hand firmly against his bicep. he didn't let you pull away. instead, he shifted his weight, leaning into you until you were tucked securely against his side, practically swallowed by his bulk. the movement caused his tank top to strain even further, the fabric groaning against the width of his chest.

​"it's okay," chan murmured, his voice dropping into a register so low it felt like a physical vibration against your temple. "i've got you. you don't have to let go."

​i don't have to let go — the thought was a dizzying loop in your mind. you could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the scent of his shampoo and warm skin wrapping around you like a cocoon. you felt so small next to him, so fragile, and the way he was looking down at you — gaze heavy and dark — made a tiny, involuntary whimper climb up your throat.

​it was a pathetic, needy little sound, and you tried really hard to swallow it, but it was too late.

chan heard it.

​he leaned in just an inch closer, his lips nearly brushing the shell of your ear as the movie’s soundtrack swelled to a roar, masking his words from jeongin.

​"that's it, such a good girl, staying so still for me," he whispered, the praise hitting you like a physical weight. "just keep holding on, sweetheart. you're doing so well."

oh. fuck.

did he just — ? did he just call you, a good girl ?

​your grip tightened on his arm, your knuckles turning white as you felt your act crumbling. the horror movie was still playing, but the only thing you could actually feel was the heat of chan’s body and the way his voice was slowly, deliberately dismantling every bit of control you had left.

the air in the room shifted, turning thick and heavy as the movie’s score reached a frantic, screeching crescendo. jeongin was still glued to the screen, completely oblivious to the silent collapse of your composure just inches away.

every time your heart tried to find its rhythm, chan’s thumb would brush slowly, deliberately, over the back of your hand — a rhythmic, possessive movement that kept you pinned to his side. you were leaning into him so heavily now that you could feel the individual ribs of his tank top pressing against your cheek, the heat of his skin radiating through the thin fabric like a fever.

suddenly, he dropped his hand from your shoulder to your waist, fingers grazing the skin where your shirt had lifted. despite much controlling, another whimper escaped you, a tiny, broken sound that was lost to everyone but him.

"you’re so sensitive, aren't you?" chan’s voice vibrated against the shell of your ear. "making those needy little noises just because i'm holding you."

jesus fucking christ —

"stop — please stop" your mind pleaded, but your body was betraying you, arching almost imperceptibly toward the source of the praise. your internal monologue was a chaotic mess of two years of pining finally crashing into the reality of his massive, solid frame.

you felt small. you felt seen. and for the first time, you felt like he was done pretending.

he leaned in, his nose brushing against your temple as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

"i think the movie is getting to be too much for you," he murmured, though his eyes weren't on the screen. "how about we go to my room ? i'll help you calm down."

the promise — the promise of help was what finally made you stop pretending. you couldn't even find your voice to answer. you just nodded — a jerky, frantic movement that had his lips curling into a shadow of a smirk.

chan stood up, his massive frame towering over you for a second before he reached down, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you upward. the sheer strength in his grip was effortless, reminding you of his strength that had been distracting you all night.

"innie, we're gonna head in. she's a bit too spooked," chan called out, his voice perfectly casual, slipping back into that normal tone so easily it made your head spin.

jeongin didn't even look up from the screen, waving a dismissive hand. "yeah, yeah. go protect your person, hyung. don't let the ghosts get 'em."

the moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind you. the silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own jagged breathing. chan didn't move toward the bed. instead, he turned, his bulk immediately crowding you back against the solid wood of the door.

he didn't touch you yet, but he didn't have to. he just stood there, his shoulders blocking out the light, the black tank top clinging to his chest as it rose and fell with a sudden, heavy intensity.

"now," he whispered, his voice dropping into that commanding register that made your knees go weak. "tell me why you were making those sounds on the couch ? why did those pretty whimpers escape your throat, baby ?

your mouth went dry, mind reeling as the words fell into your ears — he found your whimper pretty ? and the nickname — good god.

you looked up at him, the height difference feeling more pronounced than ever in the quiet of his room.

"i... i don't know," you breathed, another sound escaping as he stepped even closer, his thick thighs brushing against yours.

"liar," he coaxed, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb dragging across your lower lip. "you were being such a good girl out there, acting so sweet for me. do you want to keep being good ?"

your soul agreed before you could.

"b-big — y-you're so b-big, channie" you whispered, throat bobbing as you waited for his reaction with bated breath.

chan chuckled as his fingers slid back to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back until you had no choice but to take all of him in.

"is that what's distracting you, sweetheart ?" he murmured, stepping even deeper into your space until you were pinned flat against the door.

up close, the sheer scale of him was terrifying in the best way possible. his chest was a broad wall of solid muscle, the thin fabric of his tank top damp and clinging to every ridge of his torso.

"i've been working so hard for you," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that chesty, gravelly tone that made your knees buckle. "waiting for the day you’d finally stop pretending and just tell me how much you liked it."

he worked out for you ?

the realisation hit you with a force, making your knees buckle.

his free hand came down, his large palm splaying over your stomach, his fingers spanning nearly the entire width of your waist. he pressed in just enough to make you gasp, his thumb grazing the bottom of your ribs.

"made my shoulders broad for you to lay on, made my biceps bigger for you to hold, made myself stronger so i can — " he continued, his voice trailing off into a low, dark growl as he pressed his hips firmly into yours.

​the sentence didn't need to be finished. you could feel exactly what he meant as his eyes darkened, tracking the way your breath hitched the moment you felt the hard length of him through his shorts, pressing firmly against your thighs.

​you could only let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, your hands coming up to rest uselessly against his massive biceps. they felt like iron beneath your palms, so thick that your fingers couldn't even dream of meeting on the other side. the realization of just how much bigger he was than you sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

"channie, p-please — " you whispered, arching into him as you moved your hands to his chest, slightly digging in order to ground yourself.

the friction of your palms against his chest only made him growl, a low sound that vibrated through your own ribcage. he couldn't wait for you to finish your plea. with a single, effortless motion, he hooked his hands under your thighs and hiked you up, your back hitting the door with a soft thud as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

the sheer bulk of him was even more overwhelming now that you were flush against him. just then he pressed his lips against yours, groaning as you moaned into the kiss. a shiver ran down your spine as chan sucked on your lower lip, swallowing your tiny gasps. a slight nip on your lips had you moaning his name and all his restraints snapped.

chan laid you on the bed, the mattress divotting deeply under his weight as he crawled over you, caging you in with those massive shoulders. as the last of your clothes were discarded, the reality of him hit you like a physical blow.

god, he was big everywhere. your eyes blown wide, you tracked the lines of his body — the roped muscle of his thighs, the sheer width of his chest, and then, the sight of him fully hardened and twitching against his stomach. he was thick, heavy, and looked utterly impossible.

chan didn't give you time to overthink it. he was over you in a second, his large hand sliding down to find you already sopping wet, your body betraying how long you had craved this. he pushed two thick fingers inside you, stretching you open as he watched your face go slack, eyes rolling back.

"fuck, you’re so wet for me, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice a gravelly vibration. "did you get like this just thinking about me ? thinking about how much of me you could take ? fuck, you're so ready."

you arched off the bed, your fingers digging into the iron-hard muscle of his biceps. "please, c-chan — put it in. oh fuck — please, i need it so bad."

"you want it?" he growled, "show me how much you want it. tell me, princess."

"want you so fucking bad, i'm aching — please, channie — " you whimpered, spreading your legs wider giving him a perfect view of your sopping cunt stuffed full of his fingers. that was all the invitation he needed.

he repositioned himself, the broad head of his length probing at your entrance. he moved slowly, testing the tension, but as your own juices acted as a slick invitation, he could'nt help but slide in one heavy thrust.

the friction was staggering. you felt your breath leave your body in a silent scream as he slid in all at once, his sheer girth stretching you to the absolute limit. he didn't stop until his pelvis crashed against yours, buried to the hilt.

"oh god — fuuuuuuuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping against yours as he took a ragged breath. "you're so tight — nghhhh, you're wrapping around me like you were fucking made for me. such a good girl, taking all of me so perfectly. fuck — you feel heavenly, baby."

it felt like he was everywhere. the sensation was so deep it was visceral — you could swear you felt him pressing against your very ribs, filling the entirety of your core until there was no room left for air — breathing nothing but him. as you looked down, a visible, terrifyingly hot bulge appeared in the soft skin of your lower stomach, marking exactly where he was stretched inside you.

"look at that," he whispered, his eyes following yours to where his size was distorting your form, his thumb stroking your hip. "look at what you're holding for me. it's right in your tummy, isn't it ?

he didn't wait for a response before he started snapping his hips, his pace sudden and much fucking needed. every thrust was a heavy, wet thud, his balls slapping against you as he drove himself into you with the strength he’d spent years building.

"fuck — yea yea yea — just like that," you sobbed out, your head tossing back as he hit your sweet spot. "nghhhh, channie, right there — oh god, fuck !"

"yeah ? you like that ?" he growled, his hands sliding under your hips to tilt you up, making the penetration even deeper, even more ruinous. "fuck, you're taking every inch beautifully. you were always mine, hm ? you just had to be brave enough to let me in. so brave for me, sweetheart. good fucking girl — fuck, you're so tight."

you were a mess of whimpers and shattered breaths, your body shaking under the weight of his broad shoulders and the relentless stretch of him. the sound of wet friction and his heavy grunts filled the room, a filthy symphony of the three years of pining finally exploding.

"that’s it, give it all to me," he choked out, his voice breaking as he felt you begin to climax. "fuckfuckfuck — stay right there. let me fill you up until you can't feel anything but me. you did so well for me, sweetheart. oh god, fuck —"

he delivered one final, soul-crushing thrust, burying himself as deep as possible as he spilled into you as you both unravelled simultaneously. wrapped in his arms, swallowed by his bulk, you finally understood. the gentleman was gone, but the man who remained was exactly what you had always needed to be whole.

klover's club:

@binniebb @joyracha @b4echo @lynnslibrary @zosauce @pineapple-in-a-burgah @starlostjisung @hanjinology @hyunjinniemylove @bi-and-panicking @spiidergirlsworld @jiaaabbahng @avchannie @cchapssaltteok @unemployedcarat @hannavkk @selfproclaimedpabo @hyunjinxxs @babythisisourcinema @moch3rii @quokkahansung @persassyismysecrettwin @0felixsfreckles0 @mxmx09 @foxiebread @embobema @iownachihuahua @mylovchris @rockstarkkami @pinkyrec @pbynsstuff @gloomydietitian @leeshoeknows @mysticetti @fweakygyatt @rylea08 @mikashisus @matzduo @barbie-girl84 @soldantae @hannibugz @sssoulesss @stryscribbles @minniebitesfr @channlust @hyvnesangel @hanjisdoll @warped-rabbithole @viisstrayy

© kloversung tumblr

[kloversung]

hard hours

smut nsfw 18+ content (minors do not interact)

𑣲 chan .ᐟ

#001 — the anatomy of a roommate

your new roommate has the body of a literal greek god and the heart of a gentleman. you never expected to want him in more ways than one, but a sudden incident sparks a craving you can't ignore — and a little 'extracurricular practice' lands you straight onto his cock.

#002 — he in my tummy, bye bye to my ribs

watching your best friend get bigger and bigger was a test of patience you were already losing. who knew a little praise slipping from his mouth would be the exact thing to break you, leaving you whimpering under him ?

𑣲 minho .ᐟ

#001 — rockstar

his voice on stage is pure sin, but you’re the only one he wants to ruin tonight. the second he steps into the dark, that heavy focus shifts, making you completely helpless under him.

#002 — the pleasure is all ours ft. jisung

confessing your feelings to your best friend is hard enough. but confessing to two — especially when they’re already in a relationship together ? it feels impossible. except, it isn't. because they want you right between them just as much as you want them — and the pleasure is all theirs.

#003 — zero eight zero one

having minho in the flat right beside yours means there's nowhere to hide from the tension. a single wall is the only thing keeping you apart, and it’s only a matter of time before that thin line completely disappears.

chapter 1: a loafer full of fur

chapter 2: a crumble in the shared wall

chapter 3: a splash on the composure

chapter 4: a dent in the pillows

chapter 5: a tremor in the proximity

chapter 6: a breach through the lace

chapter 7: a sizzle in the resolve

chapter 8: a graze of the lips

bonus: smau

#004 — knuckle in — i meant, buckle in

being a brat was fun until minho decided to teach you a lesson. now, there is no running and no backing out — all you can do is buckle in and find yourself completely at his mercy.

𑣲 changbin .ᐟ

#001 — jackhammered

he overheard every single word you said to your friend, and now there’s no taking it back. he’s ready to make you live through it —no slowing down, no breathing room, just him taking exactly what he wants while you beg for a single breath.

𑣲 hyunjin .ᐟ

#001 — buckle up, buttercup

it started with a simple invitation for a late-night drive, but the second your boyfriend pulls over, the tension completely shifts. he looks at you with that slow, dangerous smirk — knowing you have absolutely no idea what you just stepped into.

#002 — gimme gimme more

continents apart, and he still manages to completely ruin you. with nothing but his text commands guiding your hands, he slowly pushes you over the edge — leaving you breathless, undone, and completely at the mercy of his words.

𑣲 han .ᐟ

#001 — lollipop ?

a single look from him is enough to make you completely forget what you were saying. you think you're the one playing games, but he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to taste exactly how sweet you can be.

#002 — the pleasure is all ours ft. minho

confessing your feelings to your best friend is hard enough. but confessing to two — especially when they’re already in a relationship together ? it feels impossible. except, it isn't. because they want you right between them just as much as you want them — and the pleasure is all theirs.

#003 — thick thighs save lives (pt.1)

the quiet yearning and academic rivalry were easy to maintain — until the lines between the classroom and the screen completely blurred. the secret you've been hiding behind a camera is about to collide head-on with the boy sitting next to you in the library. will he finally connect the dots and turn his wildest, late-night support into a shameless reality ?

#004 — can your thighs and my face have a meet-cute ? (pt.2)

the moment the masks come off, there is no going back to just being top-of-the-class rivals. discovering that the boy you’ve been pining for in real life is the same one worshiping you behind a screen changes everything. the hesitation is completely gone, and he’s ready to trade the quiet library stares for something incredibly enticing, proving exactly how loud things can get when your worlds finally collide.

𑣲 felix .ᐟ

coming soon

𑣲 seungmin .ᐟ

#001 — 'cause this type of love's the epitome

academic rivalry doesn't mean a thing when the library door clicks locked. between the quiet stacks, the strict self-control he’s famous for completely vanishes. your books are slammed shut, his hands are on your waist, and the only thing left to do is stifle your breaths against his skin before you get caught.

𑣲 jeongin .ᐟ

#001 — i let him taste it, now he diabetic

best friends aren't supposed to ask questions that make your breath hitch. but the second you admit, the boundaries shatter. he doesn't hesitate, dropping to his knees to show you exactly what you've been missing — and discovering a sweetness he never plans on giving up.

𑣲 stray kids ot8 .ᐟ

coming soon

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © kloversung tumblr

[seventeensbabye]

SKZ REACTION TO BIG TITS+FAT ASS

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗌

𝗈𝗍8! 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀s: 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗏𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆. 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾-𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽). 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗁𝗒, 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗏𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗌. 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 2374 𝗆.𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍!

CHRISTOPHER: FAT ASS: chan’s hands tighten around your hips, sliding slowly down to cup the full curve of your ass, palms warm and heavy with hunger. his lips press soft kisses along the rounded flesh, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver and arch into him. with deliberate care, he spreads your cheeks wide, tongue flicking teasingly between them, tasting you with thick, wet strokes that leave you trembling. his cock slams deep from behind, each thrust powerful and calculated, his hands never leaving your ass as he pulls you closer, burying himself deeper. every smack echoes with ownership and raw need, your body bouncing in time with his brutal rhythm. the way you clench and writhe beneath him drives his growls louder, voice low and possessive as he marks you completely. “this ass is mine. every inch belongs to me.” BIG TITS: chan pins you to the couch, one knee between your thighs as his hands push your bra up with urgency. he groans at the sight, immediately wrapping his lips around one nipple, sucking with messy hunger while his other hand squeezes the other breast, fingers digging into the softness like he’s trying to memorize it. his thrusts grind into your clothed core while he shifts between them, dragging his tongue down the valley of your chest, murmuring low praises between suckling kisses. you whimper as his teeth gently graze your skin, and he just chuckles against your chest, breath warm and heavy. “can’t believe how perfect these are.”

MINHO: FAT ASS: minho settles behind you with slow, intentional movements, his hands moving from your waist to the heavy swell of your ass. he spreads your cheeks wide, breathing out hard through his nose as he watches you clench and twitch under his gaze. he leans in to kiss along the curve, teeth grazing your skin before his tongue slides between with one long, wet lick. his fingers dig in as he tastes you, his voice low and breath hot as he pulls back just enough to position himself. once he’s inside you, he fucks you with precise, punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting deep as your ass bounces back against him. his hands squeeze your cheeks roughly, then slap one side hard just to watch the recoil. he moans as he watches the ripple, biting down on his lip before speaking, voice soaked in lust. BIG TITS: minho’s smirk fades into something darker the moment your shirt drops, his eyes locked on your bare chest like he’s just discovered a new obsession. his hands come up immediately, rough palms cupping your breasts with a greedy kind of tenderness, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden. he licks his lips, then dips his head without a word, his mouth closing around one nipple in a slow, wet suck that makes his eyes flutter shut. he sucks deeply, tongue flicking across the peak before switching to the other with no less focus. his hands squeeze and knead like he’s testing how much of you he can take in at once. when he finally fucks you, he never lets go of your chest. his fingers pressing into the soft flesh while he thrusts hard and fast, loving the way your tits bounce under his hands.

CHANGBIN: FAT ASS: changbin is shameless. he doesn’t just look, he stares. any time you’re walking away, especially in those tight shorts or leggings, he slows down just to watch. “jesus, babe,” he mutters under his breath like it physically pains him. his hands are always on you, grabbing a handful when you bend over, pulling you back into his lap when you pass by, just so he can squeeze and groan. when you’re cuddling, his palm will drift lower and settle right on your ass like it belongs there. and when you ride him? he loses his mind. the way your ass bounces in his lap has him grabbing at your hips, groaning through gritted teeth, trying not to finish too fast. “you feel fucking insane,” he’ll growl, head thrown back. he’s vocal, too. filthy praise in your ear the whole time. out in public, he’ll play it off with a smirk and a wink, but the moment you two are alone, he’s dropping to his knees, face buried between your thighs, fingers digging into that ass like he can’t get enough. BIG TITS: changbin is obsessed in the most sincere way. like he’s grateful for your chest every single time he sees you. he stares without even trying to be subtle. eyes dropping the second you walk in wearing something low-cut or tight. “you look… fuck,” he says, like words just fail him. when he hugs you, he squeezes you tight and buries his face in your chest for a second longer than necessary. during lazy mornings, you’ll catch him staring while you stretch, biting his lip, completely entranced. he’s always touching, even if it’s soft. palms brushing your breasts when he helps you dress, or cupping them gently while you lie on top of him. during sex, he’s got both hands full, kneading and sucking like he’s desperate, like he wants to leave marks. “so perfect,” he mumbles against your skin. and if you tease him. press them against his face or grind them down over his mouth. he goes red, flustered and hard as hell, begging in that low voice of his, completely at your mercy.

HYUNJIN: FAT ASS: hyunjin stares openly as you undress in front of him, gaze locked on the way your ass spills out of your panties. he reaches out, pulling you into his lap before laying you on your stomach, climbing behind you and sliding his hands down the backs of your thighs. he spreads you wide and kisses the top of your ass, then drags his tongue between your cheeks without a word, savoring how you jolt at the feeling. his hips snap forward once he’s inside you, and every deep thrust makes your ass slap back against him, echoing through the room. “look at this fuckin’ view… unreal.” BIG TITS: hyunjin’s jaw slackens as you straddle his lap, your bare chest catching his full attention. he sits up immediately, tongue darting out to lick over your nipple before sucking it in with slow, sultry hunger. his hands come up to cradle both breasts, thumbs brushing lightly as he watches you squirm under his mouth. his hips start rolling upward, cock rubbing against you while he sucks a little harder, his teeth barely grazing your skin. one hand trails down to your thighs while the other stays locked to your chest, still playing with you as he groans softly. “i want your tits in my mouth every night.”

HAN: FAT ASS: jisung’s mouth literally drops every time you show off that ass. like, zero shame, just stunned admiration. “you’re doing this on purpose,” he whines, chasing after you like a dog with a bone. he’ll press against you in the kitchen, groaning into your neck, hands already grabbing and squeezing while he rocks his hips against you. when he gets you alone, he’ll lay you down and crawl on top like he can’t wait. he spreads your cheeks with both hands, lets out a broken laugh, and dives in. messy, tongue deep, moaning like he’s tasting something forbidden. and when you ride him reverse? he loses it. he grips your ass, breathing loud, watching it bounce while he begs under his breath. “fuck- just like that. i can’t even think.” BIG TITS: jisung’s always looking. over his phone, mid-convo, even in public. you’ll catch his eyes dropping like a reflex, and he’ll just grin like, “what? can you blame me?” he loves teasing, too. resting his head in your lap just to look up your shirt, or burying his face between your tits with an exaggerated sigh. “this is heaven,” he says, like he means it. but when he’s turned on, it gets filthy. he pulls your top down and immediately sucks your nipple into his mouth, wet and desperate, one hand kneading your chest while the other slips between your legs. when you’re on top of him, tits bouncing right in his face, he groans like he’s being tortured. lips parted, eyes locked, voice wrecked. “i’m gonna come just watching you.”

FELIX: FAT ASS: felix can’t help himself. he’s sweet, sure. but the second you turn around in those tight shorts, he’s letting out a breath like you knocked the wind out of him. “baby…” he groans, eyes wide and full of worship. he’s touchy in the most innocent ways. hands ghosting over your hips, resting just under the curve of your ass when you sit beside him, or pulling you back into him under the covers at night, murmuring soft praises against your neck. but when he’s turned on? different story. he’ll spread you out on the bed and just stare for a second, biting his lip like he’s trying to keep it together. “you’re so pretty back here,” he whispers, trailing his hands over your ass like he’s touching something holy. when you grind back on him, he whimpers. full-on, breathless, desperate whines in your ear while he grips your waist and begs for more. when you ride him in reverse, he’s grabbing handfuls, eyes rolling back, muttering broken things like, “fuck-please don’t stop, i can’t take it.” BIG TITS: felix gets flustered fast. you catch him staring all the time. when you’re leaning over the sink, stretching in the morning, or changing in front of him with zero shame. he tries to look away, to be polite, but he always ends up blushing and mumbling something like, “they’re just so… yeah.” he loves lying between your tits, resting his head there while you play with his hair, humming happily. but when things get heated, that soft energy flips. his voice drops, hands sliding up your sides with slow intent until he’s cupping your breasts, squeezing gently, watching your nipples harden under his fingers. he’ll lower his mouth and suck one in, moaning quietly like he’s tasting something sweet. when you’re on top of him, tits bouncing while you ride him slow, he looks up at you like you’re unreal. eyes glassy, lips parted, whispering, “you’re so fucking pretty like this.” he worships every inch with his mouth, tongue tracing curves like a man in love.

SEUNGMIN: FAT ASS: seungmin’s quiet about it, but he notices. every time. when you walk past in leggings, he just hums under his breath and gives a little nod like he’s taking mental notes. but when you’re alone, that soft-spoken control slips a little. he grabs your hips from behind when you’re at the counter, presses into you until you can feel just how hard he’s getting. “you know what you’re doing,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. he loves having you bent over. flat on the bed, knees apart, your ass in the air. he always takes a second to stare, running his palms over your skin, smirking to himself before he lines up. once he’s inside, he grips tight and fucks slow, watching the way you bounce back on him, breathing getting heavier with every slap of skin. if you try to move off him, he just pulls you back with a low “nah, stay right here.” he doesn’t say much, but his hands and body do all the talking. and the message’s clear: he lives for this view. BIG TITS: seungmin acts unbothered. always calm, always in control. but his eyes always linger a little longer on your chest when you’re in something tight or low-cut. and when you call him out? he just gives a soft smirk and goes, “they’re nice. i’m looking.” it’s worse when you’re cuddling. his hand will slip under your shirt, resting there casually, thumb brushing slowly under the curve. he gets more vocal when he’s worked up, hands all over you, tugging your top down and immediately latching his mouth to your tits like he’s starved. his tongue works slowly, deliberately, groaning when you arch into him. “you make it really hard to behave,” he murmurs, mouthing over your nipple, teasing with gentle bites. during sex, he’ll hold your breasts as you ride him, thumbs circling lazily while he watches you with hooded eyes. when he finishes, it’s always with his head pressed between your tits, breathless and completely ruined.

JEONGIN: FAT ASS: jeongin pretends not to stare. he really tries. but every time you bend over, or walk past in those little shorts, he’s chewing his lip and shifting in his seat. he gets so red when you catch him, fumbling for words like, “i wasn’t- i mean, i was, but-” and then goes quiet. but when you’re in his lap, grinding down, teasing like it’s nothing? he stops pretending. his hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your ass, breath catching every time you move. “fuck… just like that,” he gasps, eyes wide and voice shaky. once he’s inside you, he’s desperate. thrusts messy, lips parted, eyes fixed on how your ass bounces when he pulls you back down. he groans so loud when you sit all the way, letting your weight sink into his lap, hands smoothing over the curve like he can’t believe it’s real. “you’re gonna kill me,” he whines, half-laughing, half-ruined. BIG TITS: jeongin stares without even realizing it, eyes going straight to your chest like it’s instinct. he’s shy about it. face flushed when you catch him looking, stumbling through excuses like, “i wasn’t trying to- it’s just hard not to…” and then going completely silent when you lean closer on purpose. when you cuddle, he gets clingy. head on your chest, arms wrapped around you tight, cheek smushed into the softness like he’s at peace. when things get heated, though, his hands tremble a little at first, brushing over your tits like he’s still in awe. but the second you moan, he’s hooked. he sucks your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips wet, groaning quietly like it turns him on more than you. during sex, he’ll cup your breasts with both hands, watching them bounce every time he thrusts up, eyes glassy and voice completely wrecked. “you’re so hot,” he breathes, like he’s dizzy from the view.

© 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒𝖾: 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖱𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖼, 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽.

[kittiyu]

𑣲 an eater ft. 𝒽an 𝒿isung

• contains → praise kink oral (f recieving) creampie slight hair pulling . 𓏲ּ𝄢

• 𝄞 𓍢ִ 𝓈oftdom!jisung ❤︎ 𝒻em!reader ༘⋆

in which 𓂃 jisung can’t get enough of your pussy !

a/n: this was requested by @kloversung ,, i have not been feeling great but i really wanted to finish this for you, i hope you like it bby >< (╥﹏╥)

the room is quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and the soft moans occasionally slipping out of your lips.

your legs are spread and your (jisung’s) shirt is hiked up high enough to expose your breasts. his hands grip your thighs as his mouth explores your clit.

“fuck, ‘s ssso good baby, doing—so good,” you slurred, pushing his face deeper into your heat. he moans at the praise, wanting to give you more. his mouth strives deeper into your cunt and his nose nudges your clit just right.

his tongue lazily circles your clit, switching between licking long stripes along your puffy folds and practically making out with your pussy.

“such a g-good boy, jisungie, fuck—“ you moan, hips bucking up uncontrollably.

jisung can tell you’re close by the way your thighs tremble and the way you pull his hair.

he sucks on your clit and you’re cumming all over his face. he flattens his tongue, taking your release into his mouth.

you look down at him to see that his mouth and chin are covered by spit and your cum. he smirks up at you.

fuck, you could cum again just from the sight of him like this.

[desperatop]

ancient T.O.P pictures of the day: W KOREA November 2014

[chaot1c-b1tch]

18┗━━━⊱ 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉! ⊰━━━┛

WORDS: 11.375 WARNINGS: SMUT -------------------------------

Monday should have felt normal again. Routine usually helped with that. Wake up. Coffee. Work. Customers. Small conversations repeated so many times they stopped meaning anything.

Usually routine quieted your brain. Today it only made everything worse. Because every moment of silence immediately filled with him.

You were staring at a customer while handing them change when suddenly all you could think about was the feeling of sunscreen against warm skin and the sight of Ji-yong sitting shirtless in front of you beneath the sun, tattoos exposed carelessly while ocean wind moved through his damp hair.

“Miss?”

You blinked. Your coworker looked mildly concerned.

“…Right. Sorry.”

You handed the wrong documents.

Again.

Your coworker slowly corrected you while you apologized under your breath, heat crawling embarrassingly into your face.

The moment they walked away, you groaned softly and dropped your forehead against your table for a second.

This was bad.

Actually bad.

Because it wasn’t even the kissing. Or the hand holding. Or him smiling at you like you had personally invented happiness.

No.

Your brain had decided to become obsessed with his tattoos. Specifically the angel wings at the back of his neck. Which felt unfair, you barely even seen that one.

You could still remember the feeling of kissing the tattoo at the beach in your imagination despite never actually doing it. The thought had followed you home afterward like something alive, settling annoyingly somewhere deep inside your chest.

Then there was the sunscreen scene.

Ji-yong sitting between your legs while you spread sunscreen across his back slowly, your fingers brushing inked skin while he relaxed beneath your touch with so much trust it nearly scared you.

And his voice.

One day you’ll have to let me prepare one for you.

God. Then—worse—his hands on your hips in the water. Warm. Steady. Careful.

Your stomach flipped embarrassingly hard at the memory.

“You look haunted.”

You nearly jumped.

Jiwoon stood beside the coffee machine watching you suspiciously while sipping iced coffee through a straw.

“I’m thinking,” you muttered.

“That’s usually dangerous.”

You glared weakly.

Jiwoon narrowed her eyes further.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You’re in deep.”

“I’m literally at work.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

You sighed dramatically while reorganizing cups that were already perfectly organized.

Jiwoon kept staring.

Waiting.

The worst part about being friends with someone since childhood was that they learned how silence worked on you.

Eventually you cracked.

“…Do you have Ji-yong’s Instagram?”

Silence.

Actual silence.

Jiwoon froze mid-sip. Then very slowly lowered the cup. “…Oh my god.”

Immediately regret flooded your body. “Forget I asked.”

“No no no.” Jiwoon grabbed your wrist dramatically. “No. We are staying here.”

“Jiwoon.”

“You finally want to stalk him.”

“I do not want to stalk him.”

“Nature is healing.”

You covered your face with your hands instantly.

“I hate you.”

“This is HUGE.”

“It’s not huge.”

“You asked for his Instagram voluntarily.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means everything.”

You groaned harder while Jiwoon started digging through her phone with the excitement of someone uncovering state secrets.

“You know,” she continued casually, “last month you told me celebrity men were emotionally manufactured.”

“They are.”

“And now look at you.”

“He’s barely a celebrity in my brain anymore.”

The words slipped out accidentally. Jiwoon paused. Looked up slowly. And suddenly her teasing expression softened into something much more dangerous.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

Your stomach dropped. Because now she knew too. You looked away first. Jiwoon thankfully didn’t comment on it. Instead she simply held her phone out toward you.

“There.”

You took it reluctantly.

Kwon Ji-yong.

The profile picture was annoyingly artistic and blurry. Of course it was.

“You follow him,” Jiwoon noted immediately.

“Because otherwise he’ll know I searched for him.”

“You ARE stalking him.”

“Shut up.”

Jiwoon laughed while walking away toward another customer, leaving you alone with your phone and suddenly far too much curiosity.

You opened the account. And immediately understood absolutely nothing about the man.

The first picture was abstract art. The second was his cat.

Then a blurry selfie at three in the morning where half his face was hidden beneath a hoodie captioned only with a moon emoji.

Then another cat picture. Then shoes. Then studio equipment. Then a close-up shot of his own tattoo.

Your thumb stopped moving.

It was the angel one.

The picture had clearly been taken in a mirror, dark wings stretching beautifully across the back of his neck while silver jewelry caught the camera flash faintly against pale skin.

Your mouth went dry instantly.

Jesus Christ.

You zoomed in before realizing what you were doing and immediately locked your phone in shame.

Then unlocked it again thirty seconds later.

You kept scrolling.

Studio snippets. Song lyrics written messily across notebooks. Half-finished paintings. Random videos of Zoa screaming at him. Midnight city pictures. Coffee cups. Selfies where he looked exhausted but smiling anyway.

And slowly—strangely—the image of G-Dragon started dissolving even more. Until all that remained was Ji-yong.

Messy. Artistic. Lonely sometimes. Funny in stupid quiet ways. Soft beneath all the noise.

Real.

Your chest tightened softly.

Because somewhere between the beach and the pictures and the way he had asked can I hold your hand while I drive—something had happened to you. Something dangerous.

You stared at another blurry selfie for a long moment before finally sighing and locking your phone again.

Oh no.

You genuinely liked this man.

-----------------------------------------

By the time seven finally arrived, you had already considered turning the car around at least four separate times.

Not because you didn’t want to see him.

That was precisely the problem.

The studio building stood quieter than you expected, hidden between taller structures and glowing softly beneath dim streetlights, nothing flashy about it despite belonging to one of the most recognizable men in the country. No giant signs. No fans waiting outside. No dramatic luxury.

Just a door. A stupidly normal door. Your fingers tightened briefly around your keys before you finally stepped out of the car.

The elevator ride up felt strangely intimate somehow, your reflection staring back at you from metallic walls while your heartbeat refused to calm down.

When the doors finally opened, soft music immediately drifted into the hallway.

Not polished music. Unfinished music. Fragments. A beat repeating somewhere. Someone humming absently. The sound of papers moving.

You followed the noise until you found the slightly open studio door.

And paused. Because somehow—it looked exactly like him. Ji-yong.

The room glowed under warm low lights instead of harsh white ones, shadows stretching lazily across expensive equipment and absolute chaos alike. Hoodies were abandoned over chairs. Coffee cups sat everywhere, some empty, some forgotten half-full. Open notebooks covered in messy handwriting littered tables alongside tangled headphones and scattered lyric sheets.

Candles burned themselves slowly to death near the back wall, wax dripping carelessly onto trays clearly never cleaned properly.

There were tiny pieces of him in every corner. Creative chaos. Beautiful chaos. Human chaos.

You were still quietly taking everything in when another voice suddenly spoke.

“Well. This is terrifying.”

You blinked. Then turned.

Seunghyun sat sprawled across a couch in the corner holding an iced americano while watching you with immediate amusement.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Seunghyun opened his mouth.

“He is leaving now.”

Ji-yong appeared almost instantly from behind one of the recording booths wearing loose black sweatpants, a hoodie, and glasses pushed messily into his hair. His eyes landed on you first.

Immediately softened.

And Seunghyun saw it happen in real time. The poor man looked personally betrayed.

“Oh,” he repeated slowly.

Because there it was. Not subtle anymore. Ji-yong’s entire face changed when he looked at you. Like his body relaxed before his brain even caught up.

Gone.

Absolutely emotionally gone.

Seunghyun leaned back dramatically against the couch cushions.

“Wow.”

Ji-yong pointed toward the door without even looking at him. “Leave.”

“This is my studio too.”

“Not today.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re still here.”

Seunghyun looked at you then, eyes narrowed knowingly. And unfortunately—way too perceptive.

“You look comfortable,” he observed casually.

Your stomach flipped immediately.

Ji-yong made a strangled sound. “Okay goodbye.”

“You’re smiling too,” Seunghyun continued mercilessly.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Then Seunghyun stood slowly, grabbing his drink while muttering something about emotional disasters beneath his breath.

As he passed you, he leaned slightly closer.

“Good luck,” he whispered dramatically.

“Seunghyun.”

“I’m going!”

The studio door closed behind him. Silence settled almost instantly afterward. A softer silence this time.

You turned back toward Ji-yong. He looked… nervous. Actually nervous. Which felt strangely unfair considering the man had performed in stadiums before.

“You came,” he said softly.

“You invited me.”

“Right.”

Silence again. Then his eyes widened suddenly. “Oh my god wait— there’s stuff everywhere.”

You looked around deliberately. “There is.”

“I didn’t know if I was supposed to clean or pretend I’m naturally mysterious and artistic.”

“You failed both.”

He gasped in mock offense. “You’re mean to me already and you’ve only been here thirty seconds.”

“You will survive.”

“I always do.”

You laughed quietly. And there it was again. That soft shift. The one that always happened eventually with him. The awkwardness dissolving little by little until breathing around each other stopped feeling difficult.

Ji-yong rubbed the back of his neck suddenly, glancing toward the equipment behind him.

“I need to finish something really quickly,” he admitted apologetically. “Like actually quickly. I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing.”

“I know.”

“You invited me to your workplace.”

“…That’s true.”

“You working here would make sense, Ji-yong.”

He stared at you for a second. Then smiled. Small. Soft. Dangerously fond.

“Okay,” he murmured quietly. “Okay.”

He guided you further inside afterward, moving lyric sheets off the couch so you could sit, muttering embarrassed explanations about creative process and artistic genius while you rolled your eyes.

And honestly?

You didn’t care about waiting. Not even a little. Because watching him exist here—comfortable, focused, real—felt strangely intimate already.

Ji-yong settled back in front of the mixing desk a few moments later, headphones sliding over messy hair while music filled the studio softly again.

Then he looked over his shoulder toward you one more time.

“Five minutes,” he promised.

“You said that three minutes ago.”

“…Okay maybe fifteen.”

You snorted quietly.

And Ji-yong smiled to himself before turning back toward the music again, completely unaware that your chest had already started feeling dangerously warm just from watching him there.

The studio slowly settled into a rhythm after that. Not silence exactly. Ji-yong was incapable of true silence. There was always something with him.

Music humming softly through speakers. Fingers tapping against the desk. Pens rolling absentmindedly. Half-muttered thoughts spoken aloud without realizing. Creative noise.

You sat curled against the couch while watching him work beneath the warm dim lights of the studio, and somewhere along the way, without noticing exactly when it happened, the atmosphere stopped feeling awkward entirely.

It became easy again.

Ji-yong kept turning around every few minutes nonetheless.

“Sorry,” he said for maybe the fourth time while adjusting something on the screen. “This part is annoying me.”

“You’re at work.”

“I know but you came here and now I’m ignoring you.”

“You’re literally talking every thirty seconds.”

“That’s true.”

He turned back around. Thirty seconds later—“Five more minutes.”

You huffed a laugh immediately.

“You already used that one.”

“…Damn.”

The corners of your mouth lifted again. It happened constantly around him now. Smiling. Effortless enough that you usually didn’t even realize you were doing it anymore.

Ji-yong, meanwhile, looked completely different here than anywhere else you had seen him before.

At the beach he had been playful. At dinner dramatic. In the supermarket tired. In the car soft.

But here?

Here he was sharp.

Focused in a way that almost transformed him.

One second he would be slouched lazily in the chair, hoodie hanging off one shoulder while complaining dramatically about life, and the next he would lean forward slightly toward the screen, eyes narrowing with complete concentration while adjusting tiny details you could barely even hear.

Obsessive.

Passionate.

Alive.

You watched him stop a track halfway through with a frustrated groan.

“No no no.”

He replayed the same three seconds. Again. And again. And again.

Then suddenly sat up straighter.

“Oh.”

His fingers moved quickly afterward, changing something small before replaying it one more time.

This time his entire face lit up. “There.”

You blinked. “…What changed?”

Ji-yong looked scandalized. “The bass.”

“The what?”

“The bass.”

“It sounded exactly the same.”

“You’re hurting me.”

You laughed quietly while he spun around in his chair dramatically.

“No because listen— before it sounded flat emotionally.”

“Emotionally.”

“Yes, emotionally.”

“That sentence means nothing.”

“It means everything.”

Then, because apparently he needed validation to survive, he replayed the section again while staring directly at you. You listened carefully this time.

And— “…Oh.”

Ji-yong froze. “You heard it?”

“A little.”

His jaw dropped. “You heard it.”

“A LITTLE.”

He pointed at you triumphantly like you had just proven an important scientific theory. “I knew you were smart.”

“That was your conclusion?”

“Yes.”

You shook your head while laughing under your breath, and Ji-yong stared for a second too long afterward. Softly. Fondly.

Then suddenly remembered himself and turned back around quickly. “Anyway,” he muttered. “Five more minutes.”

The studio filled with music again afterward. You should have probably checked your phone. Gotten bored. Felt awkward sitting there while he worked.

Instead you found yourself watching him again. The way he bit softly against his thumb while thinking. The little frustrated noises he made under his breath when something didn’t sound right immediately. And every now and then—without fail—he looked back at you.

Like checking you were still there. The realization hit you slowly. He wasn’t used to this either. Someone simply existing beside him quietly without asking for anything.

No performance. No expectation.

Just presence.

Something in your chest softened painfully at the thought.

Ji-yong replayed another section before finally leaning back in his chair with a deep sigh.

“…Okay maybe I hate this song now.”

“You say that about every song.”

His head snapped toward you.

“You remember that?”

“You’ve said it three times tonight.”

“…Oh.”

He stared.

You blinked slowly back at him.

And suddenly the room felt quieter.

Warmer.

Ji-yong turned fully in his chair then, one arm hanging loosely over the backrest while looking at you in complete silence for a moment too long.

“What?” you asked eventually.

His expression shifted immediately like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing.

“Nothing.”

“That’s suspicious.”

He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“It’s just…” His eyes flickered toward you again. “You really don’t mind being here?”

The question sounded so genuinely uncertain it caught you off guard. You looked around the studio slowly.

At the messy notebooks. The dim lights. The music equipment. The coffee cups. Him.

Then back at him again.

“No,” you answered honestly. “I like it here.”

Ji-yong went completely still. You could physically see the sentence hitting him. Hard. Because what you meant—what both of you understood you meant—was: I like seeing this part of you.

His throat moved as he swallowed. Then quietly: “Oh.”

You brushed the moment away before it could become too heavy, leaning forward just enough to pat the middle of his back lightly.

“Come on,” you murmured. “Finish that song already, yeah?”

Ji-yong looked over his shoulder immediately, smiling softly.

“Okay,” he said easily. Then, after a tiny pause: “But get closer. You’re too far away.”

You narrowed your eyes at him automatically. “I’m literally in the same room.”

“Emotionally and physically far away.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you came here willingly.”

Unfortunately true.

You sighed dramatically before finally pushing yourself off the couch.

Ji-yong watched the entire process with far too much interest for someone supposedly working. You ignored him while dragging one of the rolling chairs across the studio floor until it settled beside him.

“No,” he said immediately.

You blinked.

“What?”

“Still too far.”

“Oh my god.”

He laughed quietly, the sound low and warm in the dim studio.

“Behind me,” he clarified. “Come sit here.”

“You’re needy.”

“You noticed.”

Still muttering under your breath, you eventually moved the chair behind his instead, close enough now that your knees almost brushed the back of his seat when you sat down.

Satisfied, Ji-yong smiled to himself and turned back toward the screen again.

And honestly—that should have been fine. Normal. Except from here—from this close—you could see it properly. The angel tattoo.

Not glimpses of it beneath sunlight like at the beach. Not blurry pictures through Instagram.

No.

Here you could actually see it.

Dark wings stretching elegantly across the back of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his oversized hoodie while strands of dark hair curled softly around the edges of the ink.

Beautiful.

Painfully beautiful.

Your eyes stayed there longer than they should have.

Ji-yong continued adjusting music on the screen ahead, humming absentmindedly beneath his breath while typing something into the computer. Completely unaware. Or maybe not completely. Because the longer your silence stretched, the quieter he became too.

Until finally—before you could even think yourself out of it—your hand lifted. Slowly. Carefully. Your fingertips brushed the back of his neck.

Ji-yong stilled instantly. Like every nerve in his body had suddenly focused entirely on that single point of contact.

You traced the edge of one wing softly with your fingertips, following the ink slowly beneath warm skin.

The reaction was immediate. Ji-yong leaned back into your touch slightly before he could stop himself. Small movement. Tiny. But devastating.

Your breath caught softly.

His head dipped forward just a little, exposing more of his neck silently, unconsciously yielding to your hand while the studio filled only with low music and the sound of both your breathing.

The reaction startled you more than it should have. Not because he leaned into your touch. Because he trusted it.

Ji-yong had always been careful with you, almost painfully so sometimes, like every touch had to pass through permission first before reaching your skin. Even now, after the beach and the hand holding and the quiet kisses, there was still restraint in him. A constant awareness. A fear of pushing too far.

But this—this was instinct. His body responding before his brain could stop it.

You traced the edge of one wing again slowly, your fingertip sliding upward toward his hairline, and Ji-yong exhaled softly through his nose. The sound barely reached you over the music.

Still—you heard it.

Your stomach tightened.

The studio suddenly felt too warm.

Too quiet.

Your fingers drifted higher almost absentmindedly, nails scratching lightly against his scalp beneath dark strands of hair. Ji-yong’s eyes fluttered shut instantly.

God.

You stared at him for a second too long. At the relaxed line of his mouth. The exposed stretch of his throat. The way his shoulders had loosened beneath your touch without even realizing.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

“But aren’t you…” Ji-yong started quietly before stopping himself.

You waited. He opened his eyes again slowly, looking somewhere ahead instead of directly at you.

“I mean…” A breathy half-laugh escaped him, embarrassed suddenly. “Doesn’t this make you uncomfortable?”

You blinked.

“What? You being into this?”

The sentence hung awkwardly in the dim room. Ji-yong rubbed once at the side of his face like he immediately regretted saying it aloud.

“Yes, Y/N,” he muttered dryly. “That.”

Something softened painfully inside your chest then. Because he sounded genuinely uncertain. Like he was still trying to understand where your fear began and ended.

The silence stretched between you afterward, heavy and warm and full of things neither of you knew how to explain properly yet.

Your hand moved against the nape of his neck again slowly, fingertips tracing the dark span of wings upward while you thought.

The tattoo really was beautiful up close.

You had been thinking about it ever since the beach. About the glimpse of black ink disappearing beneath wet hair. About the way it moved when he laughed. About the shape of it beneath your fingertips now.

And honestly?

It looked even better than your imagination had allowed.

Ji-yong tilted his head downward slightly again when your nails scratched softly against his scalp, a silent yielding motion that made warmth rush low through your stomach.

You leaned closer before fully thinking about it.

Close enough now to smell him. Soap. Coffee. Ocean still lingering faintly somehow.

Your lips hovered just beside the tattoo for one suspended second.

Then finally—you kissed it.

Jiyong’s breath hitched instantly, the sharp intake of air sounding almost like a gasp. The sound shot straight through you. And suddenly—you understood exactly why people became addicted to power.

“It doesn't make me uncomfortable,” you murmured, your voice vibrating directly against his skin. A visible shiver rippled through him, and watching the reaction caused something warm to settle deep in your chest. Something dangerous. Something hungry.

“Then… what does?” His question was barely a whisper, a quiet, fragile plea hanging in the space between you.

In that beat, the realization struck you of just how difficult you were to understand, how hard it was for anyone to get you to open up. For once, you decided you had simply had enough of your own bullshit.

Standing up, you walked over until you were looming directly in front of him. Jiyong's eyes widened, his throat working as he swallowed visibly. What a beautiful throat, you thought.

His knuckles turned white as his hands gripped the armrests of the chair. Hard.

“Y/N…”

“I don't like feeling small,” you confessed at last, pressing your lips together in a firm line before pushing forward. “I… I like sex. I love sex. And you are…”

With a soft sigh, you finally crossed the distance and settled directly onto his lap. His hands instantly found your hips, grounding you for a split second before they began to drift away—as if your skin were burning metal he had no right to touch. You hated the retreat. Perhaps that was why your own hands came down to catch his, firmly guiding them back to where they belonged.

He let out a ragged breath, the corner of his mouth tucking into a small, unexpected smirk. You liked that expression on him; it was entirely different from any smile he had given you up until now.

“I’m what?” he prompted.

“Hot. Really hot. Your tattoos, too.”

A breathless laugh escaped him. “All this because of my tattoos?”

“Yeah. All this because of them.”

Your arms looped around his neck, your fingers tracing the dark lines of ink almost by memory now. He sighed, his eyelids fluttering shut for a brief moment.

“I have this… weird thought—”

“Tell me.” He didn't hesitate, his eyes snapping open to lock fiercely with yours.

You paused, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. His gaze immediately dropped, tracking the movement. “I thought… that I wanted to touch them all. Kiss them.”

A choked sound tore from the back of Jiyong’s throat, low and sharp, almost like a whimper. A slow smirk pulled at your lips.

“You’d let me do it?”

“Please do it,” he breathed, the words raw. “Do whatever you want with me, Y/N.”

The sheer weight of his surrender made you freeze for a fraction of a second. Jiyong swallowed hard.

“Did it sound too desperate?”

“A bit.”

“Shit.”

“It’s okay. I… can I?”

“I’m going to get hard then,” he rushed out, his voice thick. “It’s important to me that you know, and—”

You cut him off, leaning down to capture his lips and steal the rest of his words away.

He groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as his hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to anchor you. It was electrifying—a sudden, sharp jolt that rushed straight down your spine. You fucking loved it.

And the best part? The sheer, liberating lack of fear.

This wasn’t like the last time the two of you had kissed. No, everything about this was different. You were on top. You held the reins. You didn’t feel cornered or caged by his gravity. And Eun-woo? Eun-woo didn’t even cross your mind. The memory of him was entirely eclipsed by the man beneath you.

When you finally separated for air, your hand drifted up to his jaw, your fingers cupping his chin. You tilted his head softly to the side, exposing the pale expanse of his skin and the dark, intricate wings of the tattoo. Your free hand followed, tracing the black lines with a slow, deliberate stroke.

“You really like that one, huh?” he murmured, his voice rough.

“You didn’t tell me about this one at the beach.”

“You wanna know what the angel means?” A smile touched his lips first—small, a little crooked, and laced with a hint of self-deprecation, like he already half-regretted being so transparent. “It’s funny because people see angels and immediately think purity. Goodness. Something untouched. But that’s never what interested me. The thing about angels is… they fall.”

You let out a soft hum, leaning down slowly to press a lingering kiss against the side of his neck, right over the inked feathers. Jiyong let out a ragged sigh, his eyelids fluttering shut as he surrendered to the touch.

“People look at me and they see this character first,” he continued, the words spilling out quietly into the space between you. “G-Dragon. But underneath all that, there’s still Ji-yong somewhere. Tired. Sometimes lonely in ways that don’t make sense when millions of people know your name.”

He paused, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers brushed his hairline.

“And the angel… maybe that’s him. Or maybe it’s the version of me I keep losing.” A quiet, breathless laugh escaped him, and you opened your eyes to look at him. “The tattoo reminds me that softness and destruction can exist in the same person. That beauty can come from damage, too. Angels aren’t beautiful because they’re perfect. They’re beautiful because they survive the fall.”

He shifted slightly, a sudden flash of his usual charm breaking through the heavy atmosphere as he tugged lightly at the cuff of his sleeve. “Also… it just looks cool as hell.”

A small, breathy laugh escaped you at the sudden shift.

“Well, I like it a lot,” you said softly, your gaze softening as you looked down at him. “And… I’m sorry. Because I can’t entirely understand what you mean when it comes to… well, the G-Dragon feeling. But if it matters somehow… I don’t know who he is.”

Jiyong’s breath hitched, his entire body going entirely still beneath you.

You kept going, your voice steady and laced with an honesty that felt terrifying but necessary. “I know Kwon Ji-yong. Or at least, I’m getting to know him.”

His dark eyes locked onto yours, intense and unblinking, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. “I know Y/N,” he countered softly, his hands sliding just an inch higher on your waist. “Or at least, I’m getting to know her, too.”

“Isn’t she scary?” you asked, a tentative, self-deprecating edge to your voice.

“A lot.”

“And inconvenient. She fucks up a lot.”

“Not as much as she thinks,” Jiyong replied, his thumb sweeping a comforting circle against your hip.

A heavy, charged silence settled between you, the vulnerability of the moment wrapping around the room like a tight coil. You looked down at his mouth, watching the way his lips parted slightly, waiting. The vulnerability was intoxicating, but the heat returning to his gaze was downright dangerous.

“You’re too good at this,” you whispered, leaning down just enough that your breath brushed his lips. “Saying exactly what’s going to ruin me.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” he murmured, his hands tightening on your hips again, this time lifting you just an inch to shift your weight more firmly against him. The friction made you gasp, and the small, wicked smirk returned to his face. “Besides… I think you like the ruin.”

“Ji-yong…”

“Show me,” he breathed, his voice dropping into a dark, demanding register that made your blood run hot. His hands guided you, pressing you down into the undeniable proof of his earlier warning. “Show me exactly how much you like it.”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned down and crashed your lips against his, a fierce, bruising make-out session that left both of you breathless. The studio seemed to shrink until there was nothing but the heat of his mouth, the desperation in his hands, and the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving together.

Jiyong groaned, his hands moving from your hips to the hem of his own oversized hoodie. He needed it off. You paused just long enough to let him pull the thick fabric over his head and toss it blindly into the shadows of the studio, leaving him in a loose, low-cut tank top.

Your hands immediately found his chest, your fingers sliding beneath the collar of his shirt. With a firm, deliberate tug, you pushed the fabric down and over his shoulder, exposing the pale expanse of his skin. There, etched sharply near his shoulder, were the Roman numerals: VIII.I.VIII.

You leaned down, your hair brushing against his collarbone as you pressed a slow, deliberate kiss directly over the ink.

Jiyong’s head snapped back against the chair, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat. A sharp shiver racked his frame as your lips lingered on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste him.

“You weren’t lying…” he choked out, his eyes squeezed shut, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the armrests. “You really do want to kiss them.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your smirk returning, dark and confident. “Why would I lie?”

Without waiting for an answer, your hands slid down his bare shoulders, smoothing down the lean muscle of his arms until you captured his right hand. 

Your eyes dropped to the small, simple smiley face etched into the skin near his thumb. It was an iconic piece of him, a symbol the world knew well, but right now, it was just a target for your lips. You brought his hand up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly over the tiny smile.

Jiyong’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching against yours.

Before he could recover, you turned his arm over, exposing the bold script running along the inner forearm: Vita Dolce*ç. Sweet life. You traced the Italian lettering with the tip of your finger, feeling the rapid, electric pulse drumming beneath his skin, before leaning down to press a trail of slow, wet kisses from the crook of his elbow all the way down to his wrist.

A low, fractured groan spilled from his lips, his hips instinctively rolling upward against yours, seeking the friction, demanding the heat.

But you kept him waiting, deliberately maintaining your slow, agonizing pace as you reached for his left arm. Your gaze locked onto the corresponding script on his other forearm:Moderato. A musical term, a reminder to live at a moderate pace—a concept that felt completely foreign to the roaring fire consuming the studio right now.

“Moderato,” you murmured against his skin, just before your lips pressed into the ink. “Not tonight.”

“Y/N… please,” he choked out.

He was absolutely undone. Kwon Ji-yong, a man used to being chased, idolized, and perceived from a distance, had completely unraveled under the weight of your touch. 

His head was thrown back, his mouth completely open as he gasped for air, his chest heaving violently. He had never been worshipped like this—so deeply, so wholly, stripped of the G-Dragon armor until he was just a man entirely at your mercy.

And fuck, you were enjoying every single second of it. The power, the raw vulnerability of his surrender, the way his body trembled whenever your lips met his skin—it was intoxicating.

Your eyes dark with a dangerous, hungry satisfaction, you slid your hands higher up his inner arm, shifting your weight just enough to make him let out a sharp, breathless cry. Your fingers brushed over the intricate, heavier ink hidden there—the striking gun intertwined with religious artwork. The stark contrast of the weapon imagery mixed with holy symbolism felt so entirely him, a beautiful collision of danger and sacredness.

You leaned down, your lips brushing the cold danger of the inked gun before pressing a deep, reverent kiss into the religious artwork right beside it.

Jiyong’s entire body went rigid, a sound torn from the very back of his throat—halfway between a sob and a plea. His hands came up to clutch at your waist, his knuckles white, his eyes snapping open to lock onto yours with a desperate, burning intensity.

He was trembling beneath you, the friction of your bodies driving him right to the edge, but suddenly, a flicker of hesitation crossed his dark eyes. The raw, demanding register of his voice softened, replaced by a sudden, protective caution. He held your hips firmly, stalling the rhythmic motion just as it was reaching a fever pitch.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving as he stared up at you.

You blinked, momentarily dazed by the sudden pause, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Sorry?”

“I don't want to mess up,” Jiyong confessed, his voice thick with a mix of heavy arousal and genuine anxiety. He looked so incredibly vulnerable, stripped of all his armor, entirely focused on reading your face for any sign of panic.

A soft, reassured warmth bloomed in your chest. He didn't know about Eun-woo. He didn't know about the phantom weight that usually trapped you. All he knew was that you had pulled away last time, and he was terrified of repeating whatever mistake he thought he'd made.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his jaw, grounding him. “Stop worrying, Ji-yong.”

“But I really want this,” he whispered, a fierce, honest admission that slipped past his lips before he could stop it. His fingers dug slightly into your skin, anchoring you to his lap. “I want you, Y/N. And I don’t want to lose control and make you uncomfortable.”

Hearing those words from him—the absolute opposite of the careless cruelty you had survived in the past—finally shattered the very last of your walls.

“You won’t,” you murmured against his mouth, a promise and a reassurance all in one. “You couldn’t.”

Your words completely dissolved the last of his hesitation. The tension bled out of his frame, replaced by a sudden, consuming heat that seemed to set the very air in the studio on fire.

He didn't wait. His hands tightened on your hips, no longer holding you back, but pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed onto yours. 

The kiss was entirely different now—deep, possessive, and thick with a desperation that had been building for months.

You met him beat for beat, moving your hips in a slow, torturous grind that had both of you losing your minds. 

The friction was a white-hot spark, sending a jolt straight down your spine. Every press of your bodies together was an answer to his fears, a silent assurance that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

Lost in the sheer intensity of him, your hand traveled up from his chest, sliding past his jaw to tangle firmly in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your fingers fisted in the strands, and with a sudden surge of possessive hunger, you yanked back just enough to tilt his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze while you kept grinding against him.

A sharp, ragged gasp tore from Jiyong’s throat. His eyes flew open, completely blown out and dark with a raw, primal shock.

The rough, controlling grip on his hair sent a sudden, unexpected jolt straight through him. It was a completely new sensation—to be the one dominated, to have his head held back, to be entirely at the mercy of someone else’s touch. 

A deep, heavy flush crept up his neck, his chest heaving violently as a low, undone whimper escaped his lips. He was weirdly, intensely turned on by it, and the sheer force of how much he liked it completely surprised him.

"Y/N..." he choked out, his voice a fractured whisper, his hips hitching upward in a desperate, uncoordinated reaction to the pull on his hair.

A wicked smirk pulled at your lips against his mouth. Seeing him like this—this global icon, entirely helpless and unraveled under your hands—was the most intoxicating thing you had ever experienced. You tightened your grip slightly, tracing his bottom lip with your tongue before whispering against his mouth.

"Do you like that, Ji-yong?"

He could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence. His hands slid from your hips down to your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you in place as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and frantic.

"Yes," he groaned, the confession torn from him, raw and completely unguarded. "God, yes."

The heat in the studio was entirely suffocating now, thick with the sound of swallowed gasps and the steady, rhythmic friction of your bodies. 

You didn't let go of his hair, using that possessive grip to guide his head exactly where you wanted it as you leaned down to feast on his skin again.

You pressed wet, bruising kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, moving down to the hollow beneath his ear where his pulse was practically leaping out of his skin. 

Every time you shifted your weight, grinding down against his lap, a fractured whimper tore from the back of Jiyong’s throat. He was entirely at your mercy, his hands trembling where they gripped your thighs, trying to ground himself as you systematically dismantled his composure.

But it wasn’t just him completely losing his mind.

As you leaned down further, your lips mapping the dark ink on his collarbone once more, a sharp gasp escaped your own throat. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure crashed over you, so intense it made your vision blur.

For the first time in a long time, the heavy, suffocating coil of anxiety in your chest completely unraveled. 

There was no ghost of your past hovering over the chair, no fear of being trapped, no hyper-vigilance telling you to run. 

For the first time in what felt like centuries, this was pure release. It was raw, mutual, and so incredibly satisfying that tears of sheer relief nearly pricked the corners of your eyes. 

You had completely forgotten how good sex, or anything close to it, could feel—how liberating it was to just want and to be allowed to take.

“Ji-yong…” you whimpered against his skin, the sound entirely undone.

Hearing your vulnerability seemed to ignite something primal in him. He let out a low, dark growl, his hands suddenly sliding up from your thighs to lock tightly around your waist. He didn't try to take over, but he helped you, his hips arching upward to meet your next downward grind with a fierce, heavy pressure that made your head snap back.

A loud, breathless cry slipped past your lips, echoing off the soundproofed walls of the studio.

“That’s it,” Jiyong breathed, his voice thick, rough, and entirely ruined. He opened his eyes, staring up at you through heavy, dark lashes, his gaze burning with a fierce intensity. “Give it to me, Y/N. Don’t hold back.”

You let out a shaky breath, a wild, beautiful thrill rushing through your veins. 

Your hands left his hair, your palms flattening against his chest to feel the frantic, booming hammer of his heart as you began to move against him with a faster, hungrier urgency. You buried your face in his neck, kissing the dark wings of the angel tattoo again and again, your teeth lightly grazing his skin.

The heat between you was mounting, a fever pitch of breathless sighs and heavy, rhythmic motion that felt impossible to break. His hands were tight on your waist, pulling you closer, desperate to eliminate even the slightest microscopic distance left between your bodies.

And then, his elbow clipped the edge of the mixing console.

A loud burst of music exploded through the studio so suddenly that both of you practically jumped out of your skin.

You let out a startled noise, a sharp yelp of surprise, while Ji-yong swore loudly beneath you, one of his hands flying blindly toward the console to fumble with the controls.

“Fuck— shit—”

The heavy studio speakers blasted a wall of distorted bass and unfinished synth tracks through the room for approximately two catastrophic seconds, the volume rattling the very glass of the recording booth, before the music finally cut off again.

Silence crashed down afterward.

Heavy breathing. Wide eyes. The echo of the bass still vibrating in your bones.

For a beat, neither of you moved. You just stared at each other, hearts hammering against your ribs, entirely frozen in the aftermath of the auditory assault. The heavy, dark shroud of intensity that had filled the room just a second ago was violently, unceremoniously torn away.

Then—you started laughing.

It wasn't polite laughter. It was real, breathless laughter, the kind that bubbled up from your chest and escaped before you could even think to stop it. 

The sheer absurdity of the timing, the shock of the blast, and the look of utter horror on his face were too much to handle.

Ji-yong stared at you for one stunned, blinking second before groaning dramatically, letting his head fall back against the headrest of the chair as his hands slid down to his face to cover his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms. “That was not sexy at all.”

That only made you laugh harder, your shoulders shaking as you collapsed slightly against his chest, the tension completely draining out of your body.

Hearing your genuine amusement, his hands slid down just enough for his dark eyes to peek out at you. His mouth twitched despite himself, a reluctant, beautiful smile breaking across his face.

It was exactly what you both needed. The heavy, almost overwhelming gravity of the moment had been cracked wide open, grounding both of you—especially you—back into the safety of reality. 

The ghosts of the past couldn't survive in a room filled with this much light.

“Hey,” he whispered instantly, breathless and careful again despite being completely ruined beneath you. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” you whispered quickly, almost confused by it yourself. “I just…”

Your throat tightened, the words catching for a second before slipping out into the quiet space between you. “I wasn’t scared.”

Silence.

Ji-yong froze completely beneath you. 

The words clearly landed heavier than you intended, because something fragile crossed his face so suddenly it almost hurt to witness. 

He didn't know the details, didn't know the name of the shadow you had been running from, but he knew what it meant to carry a weight that made you want to hide.

Slowly, carefully, one of his hands came up toward your face, his palm resting against your cheek like he was handling something precious.

“You don’t have to explain,” he murmured, his thumb sweeping a gentle, soothing circle against your skin.

But you wanted to. Maybe for the first time in your life.

You swallowed hard, your fingers still tangled loosely in the soft strands at the back of his hair. “No, I…” Your voice faltered, a sudden wave of emotion making it thick. “You don’t understand how big that is for me.”

Ji-yong stared up at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours, absorbing the raw honesty of the admission before he exhaled shakily.

“I think,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a deep, intuitive understanding, “maybe I do a little.”

And fuck. That nearly broke you entirely.

The studio suddenly felt too intimate now, too open, too terrifyingly honest after everything you had just handed each other. The physical heat was still humming beneath your skin, but this emotional nakedness was a completely different kind of vulnerability.

Ji-yong seemed to sense the overwhelming shift. 

Shifting his grip on your face, he let his forehead fall gently against yours, grounding you in the steady reality of his touch. Neither of you kissed. Neither of you moved. 

You just stayed there, wrapped up in each other, breathing the same air while the low hum of the studio equipment droned somewhere forgotten in the background.

Then quietly—almost shy despite the absolute madness of what you had just been doing—Ji-yong mumbled against your skin: “So…”

You huffed a watery laugh, the lump in your throat dissolving. “So?”

“…Does this mean you’re obsessed with me now because of my tattoos?”

You pulled back just an inch to stare at him for one incredulous second before laughing properly this time. Real, unbridled laughter that echoed softly off the soundproofed walls.

Ji-yong smiled immediately at the sound, a heavy wave of relief visibly washing over his features to hear the lightness return to your voice.

“There he is,” you murmured, your smile mirroring his.

“Who?”

“The idiot again.”

He gasped dramatically, his chest expanding beneath you as his hands came back to rest loosely on your hips. “After all that worshipping, you still bully me?”

“Yes.”

“Cruel,” he sighed. But he was smiling when he said it, his eyes shining with a warmth that told you he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

You looked down, your eyes accidentally catching the prominent bulge in his pants, and immediately snapped your gaze back up to his face.

“I’m sorry for that,” you said, your cheeks flushing a sheepish, sudden pink.

Ji-yong just let out a soft, effortless laugh, brushing it off with a gentle squeeze of his hands on your hips. “Don’t worry about it. Completely natural consequence of what you were just doing to me.”

You groaned immediately, covering your face with one hand. “Oh my god.”

“What?” he asked innocently, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth ruined the act entirely.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet you keep climbing on top of me.”

Your eyes narrowed while he laughed quietly again, the sound warm and wrecked in a way that still made your stomach flip embarrassingly hard.

But slowly—thankfully—the atmosphere began shifting. Not colder. Just calmer.

The sharp edge of the tension softened into something sleepy and warm, both of you still catching your breath while the low music hummed around the studio again.

You looked toward the computer setup then. “…Maybe that was a sign for you to finish the song.”

Ji-yong followed your gaze before sighing dramatically. “Maybe.”

You slid carefully off his lap after that, and immediately felt his hands hesitate against your waist before letting go. The loss of warmth felt strangely noticeable. Dangerous thought.

You ignored it while straightening your clothes slightly, trying very hard not to think about the fact that ten minutes ago you had practically been losing your mind against him in the middle of a recording studio.

Ji-yong watched you the entire time. Softly. Like he still couldn’t fully believe any of that had actually happened.

You took one step away before fingers caught your hand gently. You looked back.

Ji-yong was still sitting in the chair, one hand loosely wrapped around yours while looking up at you with an expression so open it almost hurt.

“Can you still stay?” he asked quietly. Then quickly, “If you’re comfortable, of course.”

God.

There it was again.

That carefulness.

That constant checking.

And somehow it affected you more now than it had before. Because after everything that had just happened, he still wasn’t assuming anything. You nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” you answered softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The smile that spread across his face afterward was small but devastatingly genuine. Cute. Annoyingly cute.

You cleared your throat before your brain could spiral too much over that realization. “Is there anywhere I can get food or water?”

Ji-yong perked up immediately. “Yeah, vending machines outside in the corridor.”

“Cool. I’ll grab something and come back, yeah?”

He nodded quickly before pausing. Then— “…Don’t get kidnapped.”

You stared at him. “In the YG building?”

“You never know.”

“You are deeply unserious.”

“And you’re leaving me vulnerable and abandoned.”

“You’ll survive five minutes.”

“That’s optimistic.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling as you headed toward the studio door.

Behind you, Ji-yong called out suddenly— “Wait.”

You turned.

He pointed awkwardly toward your face.

“Your lipstick is a bit smudged.”

Your hand flew up instantly. “What?!”

Ji-yong burst into laughter immediately.

“You asshole.”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You’re lucky I’m being nice to you tonight.”

“Oh?” he asked, leaning back in the chair again with a smug little grin. “Tonight specifically?”

You flipped him off on your way out. His laughter followed you all the way into the hallway.

----------------------------------

The hallway outside the studio was quiet in that strange late-night way buildings became after most people had already gone home. The bright white lights overhead buzzed softly, reflecting against polished floors while distant music leaked faintly through closed doors somewhere further down the corridor.

You found the vending machines almost immediately.

Three of them shoved against the wall beside a sitting area no one was using at this hour.

One for drinks. One for snacks. One suspiciously dedicated entirely to instant ramen. You stared at the last one for a second.

Honestly iconic.

After a moment of deliberation that absolutely did not require that much thought, you grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of chips, the machine loudly dropping them with enough force to nearly give you a heart attack.

You crouched to pick them up before sitting down on the little couch nearby.

And then—because apparently you had lost all capacity for self-preservation tonight—you opened your phone. Your chat with Jiwoon sat near the top immediately. You hesitated only a second before typing.

Something happened.

The response came almost offensively fast.

Good or bad?

You snorted quietly.

good?

Three dots appeared instantly.

okay phew cause im in bed and i didnt want to go running somewhere, now spill

You stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary. How exactly were you even supposed to explain this? Your fingers hovered uncertainly before finally typing again.

we kinda… made out

A pause.

Then:Kinda?

you flushed violently despite being entirely alone in the hallway.

okay we made out A LOT

Jiwoon: OH MY GOD

You rubbed at your face with one hand.

and… a bit more

The typing bubble appeared so fast it was honestly terrifying.

Y/N.

YOU CANNOT DROP “A BIT MORE” CASUALLY AND EXPECT ME NOT TO ASCEND.

You groaned softly.

nothing crazy happened okay!!

Jiwoon: define crazy

You stared at the message.

Then finally—

We didnt have sex or anything but… he touched me and i didnt panic

The typing bubble disappeared. Appeared again. Disappeared. When her response finally came, it was slower. Softer.

…Oh.

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. You looked down at the water bottle in your hands. The bright vending machine lights suddenly felt too harsh.

You typed before you could overthink it.

the only reason we stopped is because he accidentally pressed something and the computer started screaming at us

A full ten seconds passed before Jiwoon answered.

oh my god

he didnt even notice it did he

you frowned.

what?

girl he was LOST in you

“Don’t say it like that,” you muttered aloud instantly while typing the exact same thing back.

Jiwoon: ITS TRUE

Jiwoon: so its official then

You blinked slowly.

what is?

Jiwoon: you two are dating

Your fingers froze over the keyboard. The hallway suddenly felt very quiet. Very still. Because—were you?

Your stomach flipped violently at the thought. Not unpleasantly.Which was maybe the most terrifying part. 

Jiwoon: Y/N?

i dont know

Jiwoon: WDYM YOU DONT KNOW?!

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself.

we never said anything about that

Jiwoon: he takes you on dates

Jiwoon: he holds your hand

Jiwoon: you literally made out with him in his music studio apparently???

your face burned hot enough to combust.

STOP SAYING IT LIKE THAT

Jiwoon: HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY IT

Jiwoon: “oh yes, my dear friend professionally kissed the heel out of gdragons mouth tonight”

You buried your face briefly into your hands.

God.

Maybe she had a point.

Your thumbs hovered uncertainly again before typing slower this time.

i think i genuinely like him

The message sat there for only a second before Jiwoon replied:

yeahi know You should talk with him then.

You immediately grimaced at the screen.

ugggghhh nooo

Jiwoon: don’t act shy NOW

You slumped deeper into the little couch dramatically.

but jiwoooon what am i supposed to say???

Jiwoon:idk maybe “hello ji-yong i have emotionally attached myself to you and your tattoos”

You let out a horrified snort loud enough to echo slightly through the empty hallway.

you are the worst person alive

Jiwoon: and yet i’m correct

Your fingers hovered uncertainly again. because that was the problem, wasn’t it? Not the kissing. Not the touching. Not even the terrifying vulnerability of letting someone that close again.

It was this.

The fact that this was becoming real enough to require words.

And words were dangerous.

Words made things concrete.

Official.

Your stomach twisted anxiously.

what if he doesnt want that though

The answer came almost instantly.

Y/N.That man looks at you like you invented happiness.

You stared at the screen silently.

Heat crept slowly up your neck.

Jiwoon: seriouslyhe is SO careful with everything that you have told me

Jiwoon: do you know how insane that is

Your chest tightened softly.

Because…yeah. You did know. Especially now. Especially after tonight.

After the way he kept checking your expression. After the way he stopped himself. After the way he looked more worried about frightening you than about his own frustration.

God.

You dropped your head back against the couch cushion with a groan.

i hate feelings

Jiwoon: this is karma for making fun of me in highschool

i was right to make fun of you

Jiwoon: YOU ARE LITERALLY IN LOVE RIGHT NOW

Your eyes widened violently.

WHAT?!

Jiwoon: oops

Jiwoon: did i say that out loud

You stared at the message like it had personally attacked you.

Because no. No. That was ridiculous. Right?

Sure, you liked him. A lot.

Sure, your chest did weird things every time he smiled softly at you. Sure, you kept thinking about his stupid laugh and his stupid tattoos and the way he said please like it actually meant something. Sure, silence didn’t feel lonely around him anymore.

But—Your phone buzzed again.

Jiwoon: you got quiet

Another message.

Jiwoon: uh oh

“Shut up,” you muttered weakly to yourself.

A soft laugh suddenly sounded from nearby.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped up instantly.

Ji-yong stood a few feet away holding two instant ramen cups and looking deeply entertained.

“Oh my god,” you hissed. “How long have you been there?”

He shrugged innocently. “Long enough to know Jiwoon apparently hates me.”

Your soul briefly left your body. “You were reading my messages?!”

“No!” he defended immediately. “I just heard you whisper-shouting ‘shut up’ at your phone and got curious.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

Ji-yong lifted the ramen cups slightly like a peace offering. “I brought food.”

“…You’re forgiven.”

“I know.”

Ji-yong sat down beside you with a quiet sigh, handing you one of the ramen cups carefully before opening his own. The smell instantly filled the hallway. Cheap processed noodles. Honestly heavenly.

You murmured a soft thanks while peeling the lid back slightly.

Ji-yong watched you for a second before nudging your shoulder lightly with his.

“Was I right though?”

“Hm?”

“You were talking about me?”

You scoffed immediately, blowing on the noodles to avoid looking at him directly.

“Pffttt. No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment on his face was immediate and deeply dramatic. His shoulders slumped. His mouth pulled into an actual pout.

You almost laughed.

Then, very seriously, he added: “I was talking about you.”

Your brows lifted despite yourself. “With who?”

Ji-yong stirred his ramen thoughtfully. “With myself.”

You stared at him. “…That’s somehow more concerning.”

“I had a lot to say.”

“Oh my god.”

He grinned lazily into the steam rising from the cup before taking a bite. The sight weirdly softened something in your chest again. Ji-yong like this still felt surreal sometimes.A tired man in oversized clothes eating vending machine ramen at nearly midnight while sitting beside you on a hallway couch.

And somehow that version always affected you the most.

“What exactly were you saying to yourself?” you asked eventually.

Ji-yong hummed dramatically like he needed to think very hard about it. “Mostly that you’re confusing.”

You snorted. “That’s fair.”

“And scary.”

“That’s less fair.”

“And really pretty.”

Your entire body stalled for half a second.

Ji-yong kept eating like he hadn’t just casually dropped that into the conversation.

You stared at him suspiciously. “…You can’t just say things like that randomly.”

“Yes I can.”

“No you can’t.”

“Watch me.” He pointed his chopsticks toward you lazily. “You’re pretty.”

You rolled your eyes instantly to hide the sudden warmth crawling up your neck.

Ji-yong looked deeply pleased by the reaction. “You get embarrassed so easily,” he mumbled.

“You flirt like a divorced dad.”

He gasped loudly. “Cruel.”

“It’s true.”

A comfortable silence settled afterward. Not awkward. Just warm. The kind of silence that no longer demanded filling every second.

You both ate slowly while distant music echoed faintly through the building around you.

At some point, Ji-yong leaned his head back against the couch cushion and sighed softly.

“Tired?”

“A little.”

“You still need to finish your song.”

“I know,” he groaned weakly. “But unfortunately I’m currently experiencing something called being in love with you.”

You choked violently on ramen.

Ji-yong’s eyes widened instantly.

“Oh my god.”

“WHAT?!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY THAT OUT LOUD.”

You coughed harder while he looked seconds away from throwing himself through the nearest window.

“Forget I said that,” he rushed out immediately, horrified. “Actually no— don’t forget it. Wait. Fuck. I mean—”

You started laughing before you could stop yourself. Real laughing. The kind that bent you forward slightly while Ji-yong stared at you in complete panic.

“This isn’t funny,” he whispered desperately.

“It kinda is.”

“I’m having the worst moment of my life.”

“You are absolutely not.”

“You don’t know my struggles.”

You wiped at your eyes while laughing softly again. And somewhere in the middle of Ji-yong’s dramatic spiraling—you realized something terrifying. Your first instinct hadn’t been fear. It had been happiness.

Ji-yong groaned, both hands covering his face completely now like he could physically hide inside his embarrassment. “This is catastrophic.”

You snorted softly beside him, nudging his knee lightly with yours. “I didn’t mind it.”

His hands dropped immediately. “What?”

You suddenly became very interested in your ramen. “The thing you said.”

Ji-yong stared at you so intensely you could practically feel it burning into the side of your face.

“You saying you’re in love with me,” you clarified quietly. “If it’s true… I—”

“You what?”

Damn him for asking that so softly. You swallowed hard. Because suddenly every word felt dangerous again. Not in the old way. Not fear. Just vulnerability.

Ji-yong must have noticed the hesitation because his expression softened almost painfully fast. “No pressure,” he said immediately. “Seriously. You don’t have to answer anything.”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him. At the messy hair falling into his eyes. At the ramen cup forgotten in his lap. At the nervousness he was trying so hard to hide behind humor.

And god.

You liked him so much it was becoming unbearable. “I think…” you started slowly, voice quieter now. “I think I would mind it if it wasn’t true.”

Ji-yong went completely still. The hallway suddenly felt too small. Too warm. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out at first. You could literally see the moment his brain stopped functioning.

“…Oh,” he breathed eventually.

You huffed nervously, looking back down at your noodles. “That sounded less embarrassing in my head.”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, it sounded—”

He stopped himself abruptly, pressing his lips together.

You blinked at him. “What?”

Ji-yong looked genuinely overwhelmed now, eyes wide and dark and impossibly soft.

“You’re going to kill me one day.”

Your stomach flipped violently. “That’s dramatic.”

“I’m a dramatic person.”

“That’s true.”

He stared at you another second longer before suddenly laughing quietly to himself, shaking his head a little.

“What?” you asked suspiciously.

“I was trying so hard to be normal around you.”

You barked out a laugh instantly. “Normal?”

“Yes.”

“Ji-yong, you showed up to a supermarket in sunglasses and a hoodie to buy oat milk.”

“That was mysterious.”

“That was stupid.”

“You still liked me.”

Annoyingly enough—he sounded very pleased with himself about that. You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you immediately. Ji-yong noticed. His expression softened all over again, quieter this time. More certain. Then gently—carefully— he reached over and hooked one finger into the sleeve of your hoodie. Not your hand. Not your waist. Just enough contact to say: still here.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low enough that it almost disappeared beneath the distant hum of the building, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever confessed to someone while eating vending machine ramen.”

You snorted. “Romantic.”

“Shut up. I’m trying my best.”

“You don’t need to try.”

The words slipped out quietly. Naturally. And yet the moment they landed between both of you, the entire atmosphere shifted again.

Ji-yong went completely still.

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, his teeth catching his bottom lip immediately afterward like he was physically trying to stop himself from smiling. It didn’t work. Not even a little.

The smile spread slowly anyway, helpless and bright and so devastatingly genuine that your chest tightened painfully at the sight of it.

“What?” you asked softly despite already knowing.

Ji-yong shook his head once, looking almost dazed. “You are very good at that.”

“At what?”

“At making my chest explode.”

Your breath caught embarrassingly fast.

God.

He said things so sincerely sometimes it felt unfair.

You looked down at your hands in your lap, suddenly shy in a way you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager.

Beside you, Ji-yong shifted closer unconsciously. Not enough to invade your space. Just enough warmth for his shoulder to brush yours lightly.

“I like you, Y/N,” he admitted then.

No teasing this time. No dramatics. No flirtatious grin hiding behind the words. Simple. Open. Terrifyingly real.

You could hear the nervousness underneath it now that he wasn’t trying to mask it anymore. Like he genuinely cared about the answer. And maybe that was the thing undoing you the most lately. Not the attraction. Not the attention. Not even the tenderness. It was the fact that Ji-yong cared. Without demanding anything back from you.

Your chest ached softly. “I think…” you started quietly.

Ji-yong looked at you immediately. Completely focused. Entire world narrowing down to your next words. And for once—you didn’t run from that attention. You let him look.

“I think I like you too.”

Silence. Then—Ji-yong abruptly dropped his head into his hands again with a strangled noise.

You blinked. “…Are you okay?”

“No,” he groaned into his palms. “I’m having a medical emergency.”

A startled laugh escaped you instantly.

“This is serious,” he continued dramatically. “My heart stopped working.”

“You are so embarrassing.”

“And yet you like me anyway.”

Unfortunately—that was becoming very true. Ji-yong lifted his head again slowly, eyes warm and impossibly soft while looking at you. There was wonder there.Actual wonder. Like some part of him still couldn’t believe this was real.

Then quietly—almost shy despite everything—he reached for your hand this time. Fully. Fingers sliding carefully between yours. You let him.

And the smile that appeared on his face afterward was so small and happy that it nearly ruined you completely.

His thumb moved softly against your hand where your fingers were still intertwined, absentminded little movements betraying how nervous he actually was beneath the smiles and dramatics.

The hallway around both of you had gone strangely quiet. Or maybe you had simply stopped noticing everything else.

Eventually, Ji-yong swallowed hard. Then glanced away. Then back at you. Then away again.

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “What.”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s just…” He laughed weakly under his breath, shoulders hunching slightly. “This is not how I imagined this happening.”

Your stomach flipped. “…Imagined what happening?”

Ji-yong stared down at your joined hands for a second like he was gathering courage directly from them. Then finally—slowly—he looked back up at you.

“Would you…” His voice caught slightly. He cleared his throat instantly. “Would you like to try then?”

You blinked. “Try?”

His ears had gone pink now. Actually pink. It was ridiculously endearing.

“I mean—” he started again before stopping himself with a groan. “God, I had a whole thing planned in my head and now it sounds stupid.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself.

Ji-yong took another breath.

“This isn’t how I was hoping to ask,” he admitted quietly. “But since we’re already here and apparently confessing while eating ramen from a machine…”

You laughed softly. That seemed to calm him a little. Just enough. His grip on your hand tightened slightly. Then carefully—genuinely carefully— he asked: “Would you let me be your boyfriend?”

Your heart stopped. Actually stopped. Not because the question scared you. Because it didn’t. And that realization hit harder than anything else.

Boyfriend.

The word should have felt heavy. Threatening. Suffocating. Instead—sitting beside Ji-yong under fluorescent hallway lights with half-finished ramen in your lap and his fingers nervously tangled with yours—it felt warm. Soft. Wanted.

Ji-yong must have mistaken your silence for uncertainty because he rushed to continue immediately.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” he said quickly. “Seriously. I know this is— a lot. And labels are scary sometimes and I don’t want you feeling trapped or pressured and—”

“Ji-yong.”

He stopped instantly.

You stared at him for a long moment.

At the nervousness in his eyes. At the vulnerability he kept offering you over and over again without ever demanding yours back.

And god.

You were so unbelievably gone for him.

A small smile pulled at your lips before you could stop it.

“…You are really bad at being chill.”

Ji-yong groaned immediately. “Y/N, please, I’m fighting for my life right now.”

Your laugh escaped softly. Then—before fear could catch up to you—you squeezed his hand back.

“I’d like to try.”

Ji-yong froze. Entirely. Like his brain genuinely short-circuited.

“…Really?”

You rolled your eyes softly despite the warmth spreading through your chest.

“No, I said yes for the plot.”

He stared at you another second longer before suddenly breaking into the brightest smile you had seen from him yet. Not charming. Not teasing. Just Ji-yong.

Happy.

And somehow that expression alone nearly destroyed you more than all the kissing earlier.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself, sounding stunned. “I have a girlfriend.”

You snorted immediately. “You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised!” he defended. “Do you know how scary you are?”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s affectionate.”

“You flirt terribly.”

“And yet,” he said smugly, lifting your joined hands slightly, “boyfriend.”

You hated how much that word affected you already.

Ji-yong noticed immediately. Of course he did. His smile softened into something quieter then. Something almost disbelieving. Then he leaned sideways slowly—giving you enough time to stop him if you wanted— and rested his head carefully against your shoulder. Just close.

Your chest tightened painfully again. And after only a second of hesitation—you let your head lean lightly against his too.

--------------------------------

TAGS! :3

@mockingjaybirdd @daesungsleftnostril  @mmmmaabbc @gdtabibaby @arisha-shhh  @imsleepingwhataboutu @memloz @miss-worlddd @megs-orbittt @honeymoonheartt @missleezylou @nothing-is-real-inmy-world @gds-lost-petal @supertrouble143 @hrtswon @kittietyongie @gd1888 @bradfordmyworld @chocomintlatey

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed hehe

[slowburnpages]

heyyy anet :)))

i know ur requests are paused rn, but maybe could you write something based on jiyong’s song bonamana??

i love reading ur stories! and you never disappoint!!! hope you have fun writing! thank youuu xxx

Hi, my dear! Thank you so much for your sweet words, they genuinely mean a lot to me, and thank you for your request too! I hope you’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚

About story: Your return to Seoul was supposed to be professional, controlled, and completely detached from the past. But one exclusive assignment brings you face to face with Jiyong again,the man you spent three years trying to forget. What starts as a private tour of his new trainee facility quickly turns into a dangerous reunion behind the closed doors of a mirrored practice room, while your husband waits just a few hallways away… Pairing: Jiyong (G-Dragon) x Reader Word Count: 4,527 | Oneshot Content Note: Exes to lovers, infidelity/adultery, unresolved feelings, guilt, jealousy, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, semi-public sex, mirror sex, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, praise/degradation elements, manipulation, toxic attraction, open ending

The return to Seoul was basically your own free choice. It was a kind of promotion, a chance to lead your own team at the magazine, and you told yourself it had nothing to do with the fact that you spent three years running away from something that exhausted you beyond belief. Sometimes memories simply rise to the surface, usually at the least appropriate moments, like when you’re having dinner with your husband… or when you’re having sex with him. In those moments, Jiyong’s mouth sometimes comes back to you, his hands, the way he looked at you as if he could see straight into the deepest, most hidden parts of your soul…

After breaking up with Jiyong, you returned to Europe, found a job as the editor-in-chief of a magazine, met a great man, got married… everything was exactly as it was supposed to be, and all of it helped you forget Jiyong… and then your boss gave you a very specific assignment:

“Kwon Jiyong is revolutionizing the K-pop training system. You have exclusive access to the grand opening. Bring me something juicy, the way only you can!”

In that moment, you almost turned the offer down, already searching your mind for a suitable excuse as to why you, of all people, weren’t the right person for this story. You didn’t want to return to Seoul. You didn’t want to stand there, surrounded by fellow journalists who had no idea that you were the one who used to let the star of tonight’s event fuck you in bathrooms and any other place where you could have been caught at any moment.

But saying no would mean admitting that you were still afraid of how you and your body would react when you saw Jiyong again, admitting that he still affected you in some way… and your pride would never allow that.

The facilities really are impressive, you can’t deny Jiyong that. He clearly drew from his own experience and from everything he lacked most as a trainee. The practice rooms are high-end, the dormitory for the trainees doesn’t look like a prison, and the trainees have access to nutritionists, psychological help and support, simply everything that the old, outdated, slightly too harsh and rigid system was missing. He covered everything he didn’t have as a teenager, when he slept four hours a day and starved himself to meet almost impossible standards.

You noticed him the moment you stepped inside, and you didn’t even need to see him. Your body had always registered his presence before your eyes did. He’s talking to a group of his colleagues, and he still looks just as perfect and confident as ever.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Your husband’s voice beside you pulls you out of that trance, out of the embarrassing staring at Jiyong, and drags you back to reality. He’s a photographer, which is actually how the two of you met, because you started working together. You agreed to marry him far too quickly for your taste, because you wanted to fill the emptiness that remained inside you after breaking up with Jiyong.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, taking a glass of champagne from him. “I’m just thinking about the article,” you add and take a sip, because you realize how dry your throat has become.

“Kwon Jiyong really is a genius,” your husband says. He sees you watching Jiyong, but he doesn’t take it as something threatening, because Jiyong is the star of tonight’s event and all the attention in the room is directed at him… after all, your husband doesn’t know that you used to date Jiyong, or that it was the most intense relationship you’ve ever experienced in your life. “He’s so good at identifying flaws and gaps, drawing from his own experience and still turning it into excellent promo… He can turn everything upside down.”

Turn everything upside down… how fitting for Jiyong.

“I saw my former colleague from Tokyo. Do you mind if I go over to him for a moment? I’ll be right back,” he says and kisses your hair.

“Sure, of course,” you smile back at him and feel a heavy sense of guilt, because right now you’re only capable of thinking about Jiyong. Nervously, you move to the corner of the room, and the hands holding your notes with questions for the official press conference tremble slightly.

“I was wondering whether you’d show up, Y/N,” a very familiar voice sounds behind you, running from your ears all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“I think you approved the list of journalists, so you knew very well I’d be here,” you answer calmly as you turn to face Jiyong. He’s closer than you expected and even more beautiful than you remember.

“I approved the list of magazines. Your name was just a bonus… though your last name has changed,” he says in an calm voice, and his gaze drifts to your wedding ring.

“I have questions,” you say, unconsciously hiding the hand with your wedding ring behind your back, as if that could change the fact that you’re married.

“I bet you do,” Jiyong smirks smugly.

“Professional questions… for my article,” you add, trying to let him know he’s not as amazing as he thinks he is, even though you know he is…

“Ah, right…” Jiyong nods, the smirk never leaving his lips. He vaguely gestures toward the crowd of journalists near the stage. “You can wait for the official press conference and tour like everyone else. It starts in half an hour.”

“It’s hard to get something original when thirty other journalists and reporters keep asking the same questions over and over… I don’t like these group events,” you say simply.

“Do you want something exclusive, then? Private access?”

The tone Jiyong uses when he says the word private, and the way he raises one eyebrow in amusement with that spark in his eyes—the one that was always there and clearly still is—almost make your knees buckle, but you try not to show it.

“I mainly want to understand your vision, Jiyong. The old system was brutal, we both know that… So what makes this any different? Why is it worth talking about, apart from the fact that it’ll give you more excellent promo?”

“You want to know what makes it different?”

“Yes, that’s my job,” you answer and roll your eyes, because this conversation is making you more and more nervous, and you don’t know how else to release the tension from your body except through exaggerated gestures and expressions.

“Then come with me,” he takes a step back and nods his head for you to follow. “The practice rooms… that’s where it all begins, because that’s where trainees spend most of their time. I designed them from scratch. The floors, the mirrors, the sound…” He pauses for a moment. “It’ll probably be better if you see it instead of listening to me talk about it in abstract terms.”

You know for certain that you should say a clear no right now and wait for the group tour that starts in less than half an hour, before the press conference. Somewhere in the room, your husband is probably looking for you to bring you another glass of champagne, and here you are, actually considering letting yourself fall into the trap again.

You blink several times as all you see now is Jiyong’s back as he walks away, and in that moment, your feet move of their own accord, blindly following him.

Fuck

You follow Jiyong through the building, past groups of guests and staff, past doors marked Staff Only that open with a key card. With every step, the noise fades, replaced only by the hum of the air-conditioning and the too-loud thumping of your heart.

You stumble slightly behind Jiyong, trying to match your steps and pace to his.

“How long have you been back in Seoul? A week?” he asks without turning around.

“Two weeks, actually,” you say, finally speeding up enough to walk beside him.

“Two weeks and you didn’t even call…” he says with mock reproach, throwing you a glance.

“Why would I call you?”

“I don’t know…” he shrugs vaguely. “Maybe just to reminisce about the good old days.”

“Old days? Maybe… Good? That’s debatable…”

“Ow, you’re still just as cruel,” he says dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as he finally stops at the end of the hallway with a card in his hand and turns to face you. The lighting at this end of the corridor is dimmer and colder. The LED lights throw sharp shadows across his face.

The card beeps against the reader and the door opens. This practice room still smells brand new, and it’s larger than you expected. The floor is made of light wood, polished to a mirror-like shine that almost blinds you when Jiyong turns on the large ceiling lights. Three of the four walls are covered in mirrors from floor to ceiling, and the fourth wall is entirely made of glass, overlooking Seoul, providing plenty of daylight during the day.

The mirrors fascinate you because they’re everywhere. Everywhere you look, you see yourself… fragmented, reflected from every angle and… you see Jiyong too, standing just behind you, watching your expression through the mirror.

“This is the main room,” he says close behind you before stepping in front of you. His voice echoes lightly through the empty space. “Top-tier sound system, AC, sprung floors, because we don’t want our trainees destroying their joints after their first six months of training…but the most important thing is the mirrors… I’d say they’re the alpha and omega.”

“Mirrors are standard in practice rooms.”

“Good observation,” he says, moving closer to one of the mirrored walls. “But these are still a little different… Come here.” He gestures for you to come closer, and you reluctantly step nearer to him, nearer to the mirrors. “Here, they’ll learn to see themselves clearly… No one expects them to be perfect or flawless, but they need to understand that they have to work with their bodies, not fight against them.”

“Impressive,” you say quietly and uncertainly, when you catch Jiyong’s reflection still standing behind you.

“Did you expect anything else from me?” he asks, and you feel his warm breath against your ear as he looks at you through the mirror without blinking.

“I expected something less thought-out,” you say, not taking your eyes off his reflection.

“You’re still so bratty and—”

“That’s what you always liked about me,” you cut him off sharply.

Jiyong laughs, shakes his head, and lowers his eyes for a moment and breaking your eye contact. “I liked a lot of things about you,” he says, and you watch as his right hand moves from your wrist, along your forearm, until it slips beneath your sleeve and rests on your shoulder. You feel yourself shiver under the touch. “Your attitude, your anger, the way you loved starting fights just so you’d have something to win…”

“What are you doing, Jiyong?” you breathe out, turning your head toward him. You can feel your breathing and your pulse speeding up dangerously.

“I’m just showing you my new concept… but you look a little nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you mutter, swallowing as your cheeks burn.

You’ve fallen into his trap again…

“Really? Then why is your breathing faster? Why are your hands shaking?”

“My hands aren’t shaking.”

“No? Then look…”

Jiyong places his hands on your hips and makes you step closer to the mirrored wall, forcing you to look at your own reflection again. You see your flushed face, your tense jaw, your slightly trembling hands, and you feel his body pressed against your back.

“Do you think about me even when you’re with your husband?” he asks quietly. “Because I think about you all the time. I keep waiting for a door to open and for you to be standing there…”

“I don’t think about you,” you mutter, unable to look away from Jiyong’s eyes in the mirror.

“Liar,” he says with a smirk.

In the reflection, you watch him lower his head and press his warm lips to your neck.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you? I can tell. I always could. You always start squirming like this…” he adds, then drags his tongue over the pulse point in your neck, forcing a sharp breath out of you.

That’s when you start to realize there’s no getting out of this trap anymore.

You don’t have enough strength to respond to his words. All you can do is watch your reflection, your flushed cheeks, your slightly parted lips, and Jiyong kissing your neck with his hands on your hips.

“You always reacted so sensitive to every touch of mine,” he whispers. “So quickly... You were so easy to read once I learned how to recognize it…”

“I’ve changed.”

“Really?” You feel him smile against your neck as one of his hands moves from your hip to your thigh, lifting the fabric of your dress and pushing it higher little by little. “Do you want me to stop?”

You don’t answer, and Jiyong takes your silence as permission to continue. He pushes your dress higher, and when his fingers find the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, only a short distance from your pussy, you can’t stop yourself. You gasp sharply, tilt your head back, and rest it against Jiyong’s shoulder.

“I remember you on your knees with your mascara smudged… I remember the way you moaned please, as if it was the only word you knew…” he whispers, turning his head toward you while yours is still tipped back against his shoulder.

His fingers finally touch the thin, soaked fabric of your panties, and he exhales in satisfaction before kissing your ear. “Three years… three years, and you’re still dripping for me…” he mutters as his fingers push the fabric of your panties aside and begin circling your clit with practiced precision.

“Ji…” you whisper, almost breathless, before turning toward Jiyong and kissing him hard.

You bite his lower lip, and Jiyong moans into your mouth. It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve heard in the last three years. His hands are everywhere… on your hips, your ass, your thighs… He pulls you against him with such hunger that you know this was his plan from the beginning, maybe from the moment you walked into this damn building.

You kiss him with the same force he kisses you, digging your fingers into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. It isn’t gentle, because nothing between you has ever really been gentle. It’s raw instead, hungry, almost violent in the way it consumes you both.

Jiyong pushes you backward until you’re standing in the corner where two mirrored walls meet, and you gasp when he presses your back against the cold surface of the mirror.

“Do you still like fucking in semi-public places?” you breathe out as his lips find your neck again and his teeth graze your oversensitive skin. “Is your penthouse with its big luxury bed still not enough for you?”

“My bed was good enough when you were in it,” he growls against your neck, his hands gripping your thigh and hip so tightly that you tilt your head back again, giving his greedy lips, tongue, and teeth easier access. “But I also remember that you were the one who couldn’t wait and threw herself at me backstage at MAMA and—”

“You started that,” you moan, sliding your fingers into his hair because you need to touch him, need to pull him as close as possible.

“And you finished it… Three times, if I remember correctly,” he mutters before dropping to his knees.

The movement is so quick that you barely have time to react. He lifts your dress, and his fingers hook into the edges of your panties without hesitation, pulling them down your thighs. You step out of them without protest and kick them aside.

“God…” you breathe out when his hot tongue drags over your folds for the first time.

You sway slightly, trying to steady yourself with one hand against the smooth mirror while your other hand slips back into Jiyong’s hair. His tongue keeps moving over you, and every now and then, almost carelessly, the tip of it flicks over your clit. He eats you with such precision and confidence because he knows exactly what you need, exactly what you like, and he’s only deciding how quickly he’s going to give it all to you.

“Look at yourself,” he mutters, his voice vibrating against your clit. “I said look,” he growls, lifting his gaze to you, and with the last of your strength, you open your eyes and turn your head.

In the reflection of the mirrored wall beside you, you see your flushed face, your parted lips, your fingers buried deep in Jiyong’s hair, and Jiyong on his knees with his head between your thighs, his hands gripping your ass firmly to keep you exactly where he wants you.

“Just like that,” he says, pulling away only enough to look at your reflection in the mirror.

Your eyes fall to his glossy mouth in the reflection, to the hair you’ve ruined with your fingers, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning. He looks so perfect, so painfully perfect that you don’t even notice your wedding ring glinting on your finger in the mirror…

“Jiyong, I…”

You don’t get to finish, because you moan again when his mouth closes around your sensitive clit and sucks. Your hips jerk against his face on their own, trying to meet him. Jiyong doesn’t resist. Quite the opposite. He lets you grind against his tongue and mouth as if you’re using him for your own pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good, exactly how I remember,” he growls as he pushes two fingers into you without warning, and your knees almost give out. “Does your husband make you feel this good too? Does he know what your pussy needs? What you need?”

“No,” you answer almost immediately, pushing your hips toward his fingers as they hit that sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Mmm,” he hums against your clit while he keeps fucking you with his fingers, because your answer gives him exactly the satisfaction he needed to hear.

His tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers work with deliberate intensity, making you see stars. You tighten your grip in his hair, so hard that he growls in satisfaction, and the pressure of his mouth grows stronger, his tongue moving faster against your clit.

“God…” you moan louder, your thighs starting to tremble uncontrollably along with the rest of your body. “Don’t stop, I’m so close…”

Jiyong doesn’t stop until a powerful wave of orgasm tears through you, and if he weren’t holding you, you would probably collapse straight onto the polished floor. You gasp for breath. You can’t think. You can only feel, only hear how loudly you’re moaning his name under the weight of the aftershocks while your fingers tighten in his hair and he slows the movement of his mouth and tongue, guiding you through every last shudder.

After a moment, Jiyong finally stands without letting go of you, still holding you firmly so you don’t lose your balance. He’s breathing heavily, and your gaze drops to the strained fabric of his pants, to the obvious bulge there, and another wave of arousal rolls through you before the first one has even fully faded.

You look at him. He is disheveled and rock-hard enough that it must hurt.

“Do I deserve you?” he asks breathlessly, but he doesn’t wait for your answer before kissing you again. You taste yourself on his tongue. His palms grip your hips again as he pulls you closer, then turns you around so you’re facing the mirrors you’ve almost forgotten about.

“Keep your hands here,” he says, placing your palms against the cold surface of one of the mirrors, and all you can do is nod because your breathing still won’t let you speak.

You hear him unbuckling his belt and watch him in the reflection as he does it. His flushed cheeks, clenched jaw, focused expression, his desire… he looks more perfect than ever.

“Look at yourself,” he mutters when his trousers are pushed down somewhere around his knees and he’s rubbing his rock-hard cock against your ass. “You’re so beautiful, so desperate just like me…you need my cock inside you so badly…” He pumps himself a few times, then drags the tip against your still-wet folds. “Do you want me? Do you want my cock in your pussy as much as I do?”

You can’t form words. All you can do is wait impatiently for the moment he finally pushes into you and fills you.

“I don’t hear anything… Where are your manners?” he mutters, still circling the tip of his cock around your entrance while his lips latch onto your neck again.

“Jiyong, please…” you moan, lifting one hand to slide it into his hair without taking your eyes off the reflection in the mirror.

Jiyong thrusts into you in one hard motion, forcing you to cry out louder, and your pussy clenches around his cock immediately as it tries to adjust to his size. The cold mirror chills your palm, but the heat of Jiyong’s body burns against you almost unbearably.

“Look at us,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making your muscles clench around him again. “We belong together… and your husband has no idea what I’m doing to you in here…”

You try to dig your nails into the mirror in front of you with every one of Jiyong’s thrusts, watching his reflection with helpless fascination. His intense gaze, his eyes full of desire and complete loss of control. Jiyong holds your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he starts thrusting harder, mercilessly, picking up his pace. It’s as if he’s trying to make up for everything he’s missed over the past three years, just as much as you are.

“Does he make you feel like this? Do you think about me when he touches you?” he breathes hoarsely, slowing for a moment only to thrust deeper into you. “Answer me,” he demands when you don’t reply.

He grabs your chin and forces you to turn your head back toward him. Your eyes meet his, that dark, focused, burning gaze that has always made your knees weak. Before you can say anything, he kisses you. Your lips part under the pressure of his mouth, and the kiss is hungry, desperate, full of all the passion neither of you has managed to release properly in the last three years.

As he kisses you, his free hand slides from your hip back between your thighs, and you start trembling uncontrollably again. You tilt your head back and look into the mirror, now fogged slightly from your hot breaths.

“You’re so beautiful when you can’t control yourself, when you get this wet for me, Y/N…only for me,” he whispers, looking at your reflection so he can meet your eyes. “You were never his, Y/N… You’re only mine… all of you, aren’t you?”

“Yes… God, yes,” you admit helplessly, pushing your hips toward his fingers as they tease your clit again and pace you toward another orgasm.

His fingers move faster, matching his harder, deeper thrusts, and your pussy begins to tighten around his cock again. Your whole body tenses, and you choke on your own moans. Jiyong pounds into your trembling body, enjoying every reaction he pulls out of you until you clench around him violently, and after a few final thrusts, he comes inside you with a low, guttural growl.

For a while, the two of you only breathe. Your head rests against his shoulder, and Jiyong’s face is buried in your neck. You don’t know how long the moment lasts before he reaches into his pocket, pulls out some tissues, and cleans both of you up. When you pull your dress back down over your hips and try to fix yourself, you remember your husband, and guilt hits you all at once. Just a few meters away, he’s waiting for you. Maybe checking his watch nervously, completely unaware of what you’ve just done.

You check yourself in the mirror, fixing your appearance, when Jiyong catches your wrist and studies your wedding ring. “Your husband doesn’t have very good taste, I’d say…” he mutters. “I would have chosen better… and my penthouse is still empty. I’ll give you anything. You just have to give us one more chance...”

You pull your hand out of his grip and suddenly don’t know what to say.

“It wouldn’t work, Jiyong. We’ve tried too many times,” you say, but the certainty is missing from your voice. Your head is still lowered when you reach for your handbag, which has been lying on the floor until now, and pull out your business card. The address of your new Seoul office is printed on it.

“This is my address. I’ll send you the draft of the article, and if there’s anything you don’t like or anything you want changed, you can find me here,” you say, knowing exactly how obvious your wish is. The wish that this won’t be the last time you see each other…

Jiyong takes your business card, and his lips curl into a satisfied smile. To him, it’s an invitation to the next round of this dangerous game.

You can’t bear that smug look on his face any longer, so you turn away and leave through the door with bated breath, walking quickly. You make your way back through the corridors toward the main hall until the noise of the guests reaches you again.

Your husband is already waiting for you by the small bar and looking around impatiently with two glasses of champagne in his hands.

“Where were you, sweetheart? I was starting to worry you’d miss the start of the press conference…” he says with concern.

“Sorry,” you smile and take one of the glasses from his hand. “I had to disappear for a moment, but I got some great material for the article.”

Your husband smiles brightly and wraps an arm around your waist. “I’m so proud of you. This is such a great start for your journalism career here in Seoul…”

A really great start…

You glance over your shoulder into the crowd. On the other side of the room stands Jiyong. He’s leaning casually against the wall, getting ready for the start of the official press conference. For a moment, his eyes find yours. He watches your husband hold you around the waist, the same place his own hands had touched only minutes ago… and in his hand, he calmly turns over the business card you gave him just a little while ago.

You know you’ve just signed another contract with the devil. And you know you’ve never really cured yourself of this addiction called Jiyong…

💚 Taglist: @ldydeath @strawinyourdrink @chocomintlatey @babyzzzzz @cchapssaltteok @lolzworld @jiyongsbaby88 @kikokikokikokikokiko @jiyongsraven @jiyongiie @finallyremembered @honeebee1318 @hex-girls-stuff @bunnygirlgonewild @headinthecloudswithpeanutbutter @kitty-catttttss @aemrsy @yourphobiavi @thanosspills @imthefreakyg @troyjnis @megs-orbittt @lilshu65 @sanniix33 @missleezylou @gdtabibaby @stacyyyystami @thatxxdarling

[cancertarian-blog]

Fuck you. | Dong Youngbae

Pairing: Dong Youngbae/Reader Point of view: Reader Word count: 706 Graded: Fluff | Smut | Angst | No grade Warnings: Swearing, (abuse).

⠀⠀⠀⠀Ignore him. He does this sometimes, quite often actually, and every time I think it’s the last time but I guess I’m just that stupid. Another glass breaks when it collides with the marble kitchen counter and he keeps screaming at me even though I’m doing nothing but sitting silently at the kitchen table with red eyes glazed with tears.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Are you listening?” With his hand he swipes the broken pieces of the glass down to the floor to get my attention.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“No.” I answer bluntly, and he’s taken aback, because obviously I’m not supposed to have confidence, that’s his thing, dick. He grabs another glass from the cabinet. “Stop.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Make me.” He throws another glass and this time directly to the floor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Youngbae-”

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Why do you care about these glasses anyway, I bought them, I make the money, I basically own you too.” I look him in the eyes and my mouth hangs open.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“You don’t own me.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀“I don’t? The shirt you’re wearing-”

⠀⠀⠀⠀“You may own all my fucking clothes but you do not own me!” I stand up now, luckily for me the kitchen has two exits so I can spare my feet from the glass carpet on the floor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“And what would you do without me then?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Right now I’d probably not feel like shit for not doing anything, not feel like I’d actually rather jump out a window than keep speaking with you.” He comes out of the kitchen and his steps are heavy. I don’t want him to get to me but I am really scared and I’m finding it hard to breathe.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“You always question my work, why am I home so late, maybe because I have to make all the fucking money.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Can you please stop valuing me by the money I’m not making? Don’t you think I’m trying my hardest to apply for a job?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Not hard enough.” My head drops and tears actually fall down my cheeks, I try to muffle my sniffles the best I can because it will probably only satisfy him. I walk over to the living room, keeping my head down. I slung my bag over my shoulder, it’s far from enough of all the things I’d like to take with me but I need to get out of here.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Where are you going?” Ignore him… I keep walking and open the door. “Hey-” Slam.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I beg for him to not open the door and follow me, my feet hurry down the staircase, the sound of my heels echo through the entire building and so does the sound of the gate when it closes behind me. I walk straight to the left, I don’t know where I’m going but he can’t see me through our window — his window, if I go that way. My phone buzzes, the display shows his phone number. I look at the screen for a while, not once thinking about answering, absolutely not, but if I should hang up or let it ring. Rejecting the call I lean against the railing of the bridge I’m on.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Fucking hell.” I cover half my face, nose and mouth, and I start to cry severely. The people walking by just look at me weirdly, I’m actually thankful nobody tries to comfort me because any interaction right now will only make it worse. My hand spasms with surprise when the phone buzzes again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀When are you coming back?6.57

⠀⠀⠀⠀I read the text as endearing, which is completely wrong, he probably almost broke his phone with his bloody hands while writing that. I sink down to the ground and put my bag in my knee. Rummaging through all the things in there I manage to dig out my keys to the apartment. My head turns and sneak my hand through the space between the fence poles of the railing and drop the keys down the bridge, they fall for a while before they make contact with the water. I stand up again and I start to walk, still no idea where I’m going, just away from here. My shaking thumbs press on the keyboard before they proceed to delete his number. Then I continue to walk.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I’m not. 7.03

⠀⠀⠀⠀Fuck you. 7.03

Notes: You must hate me, first I don’t post for a long time and when I do I post Taeyang angst, I’m so sorry. But I felt like writing angst for some reason which I usually don’t. 

Thanks for reading!

[makeitworse]

BABY IT AIN’T FAIR

mtl submissive w fem reader. 18+ ft. GD ‧ TOP ‧ DAE ‧ YB ⟢

𝐉𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐆 (MOST LIKELY)

jiyong is a power sub, loud n’ proud. you’re the only one the king bows to, and thinking about it gets him all hot. fame’s nothing compared to the way you look down at him when you’re rutting your hips against his, drawing out shameless moans from his throat. he’s a shy and needy lover. jiyong’s easily excitable; you’ll often catch him checking you out, getting flustered when you tease him over it. he can’t help how often he wants you. even just ghosting your lips over his neck can have him whining your name. at times he needs to be put back in his place. while you’re bobbing your head on his cock, a buck of his hips to hit the back of your throat has you pulling away. jiyong reaches for you with a whine, when you press your thumb into his frenulum, watching him writhe. though, he can get impatient. when he remembers he’s gdragon, he’ll act like a brat: kissing you with a force that cranes your neck back, carelessly tugging your clothes to the side with rough hands— trying to take whatever he wants. but, once you shove him under you again, you remind him why that’s how he likes it best.

𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆

daesung is a switch. he’ll go along with whatever you want. if you just want to lay back, then he’ll gladly put the work in. but when you’re in the mood to wrap your fingers ‘round his neck and push him down against the sheets, daesung couldn’t be more willing. he’s very into his hair being pulled. even when you’re just laying together, mindlessly playing with his hair— a light tug on his scalp is enough to have him sighing, kissing your jaw like he’s asking for permission. he’s a thoughtful partner. it’s sweet, he gets off to your pretty smile when he’s submitting to you. he could so easily take back control— but daesung wants to do what pleases you the most, though not without a little fun of his own. when you’re on bouncing on top of him, he’ll keep steady hands on your hips, looking up at you like you’re the air he breathes. he’s noisey on purpose; he loves seeing your reaction to his moans, how you speed up the rocks of your hips. and, when he feels your thighs go slack, that’s when he’ll rock his hips to meet your thrusts, revelling in the way you gasp at him.

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐄

youngbae is a soft dom. he wouldn’t exactly deny letting you take control— rather, you know he performs his best when you let him take care of you. he’s a very doting lover. if you wrapped your wrist around him, he’d thrust his hips to match the speed of your hand. if you took his dick into your mouth, he’d tell you how beautiful you looked while you’re down. while you’re not exactly “in charge”, he’d still follow your every word. anything his girl wants, he’ll give. if you feel like being a little bossy during sex, he’ll play into it. he’ll even smirk when you roughhouse with him. it always ends with him mounting you, asking if you’re done playing around with a cocky smile— leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. actual power dynamics are a no-go for him. he wouldn’t ask you to submit yourself, either. it’s pretty much always love-making with youngbae.

𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍 (LEAST LIKELY)

seunghyun is a service dom. it’s a known fact that he has a strict boundary on letting people see or touch his body. of course, you’re one of the very few exceptions— but he shines during intimacy when the focus is you. he’ll keep his head buried between your thighs till you’re practically prying his mouth off of you. and even if you reach for him, try to return the favour— he’ll just hush you with a kiss to the lips, before he’s sliding his hand down to rub little circles on your clit, still tender from when he ate you out. he’s got a lanky build, which he absolutely uses to his advantage: he’ll keep you pinned down with firm hands around your wrists or gently wrapped around your neck. he loves when you’re helpless to just taking what he gives you. it’s difficult to thwart the control he has during sex. it’s one of the few things he strictly takes seriously. while he’s up to experimenting in the bedroom— the act itself is vulnerable enough for him, so being in charge is where seunghyun’s comfortable. don’t waste your time trying to take control— just lay back and let him do what he does best, yeah?

notes: spreading my sub!gd agenda. i wrote this while very sleepy so apologies that it’s not polished

tags: @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @loveesiren @ttturnitup @pinkpunkdynamite @heartubeatusalon @breakmeoff

d/t the huzz @burlesquerade @emmiesoverthemoon ✄✄

[jiyongsangel]

million dollar man, kwon jiyong

synopsis: it’s the last show of jiyongs ‘übermensch’ tour and he looks so good on stage, you have to have him afterwards.

warnings: legal age gap, 18+, minors dni, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, spanking, unprotected sex, jiyong being possessive, aftercare, fluff.

a/n: helloooo everyone im back 🥹🥹it’s been awhile i hope you all had an easy and restful holiday and are easing nicely into the new year. i thought id come back with something good smut and i hope you enjoy it🤍 also i may or may not have a series starting up soon. but more info on that later😋

You were sat crossed legged backstage scrolling through your phone when you heard the mass of staff come through which obviously meant your boyfriend jiyong was coming off stage.

it was the last show of his übermensch tour today and you were beyond proud of him, he’d worked so hard on making this tour perfect since it was his comeback and it seemed it had paid off.

as much as you were proud of him, the way he looked in his outfits and his new black hair was doing things to you. when you saw him on the little tv backstage you nearly lost your breath and you could’ve sworn you were already wet.

when he came zooming in on his dragon bike/ car hybrid you immediately got up and ran over to him. he spotted you and grinned.

“jagiya you’re here.” he murmured as you lept into his arms without acknowledging you were being watched by thousands on live stream.

“wouldn’t miss it ji i’m so proud of you.” you said with a laugh.

he pulled away just enough to look at you and raised a brow “you sound more excited than me baby.” he said with a scoff.

“maybe i am.” the cheeky tone was evident in your voice. “i’m excited for a few things.” you said beginning to trail your hands down his sweat slick chest.

his face turned bright red as he looked up at the camera currently tracking his every move on live. he gently moved your hands from his chest so they were resting by your sides.

“later.” he breathed out into your ear so only you could hear.

you rolled your eyes and huffed “you’re no fun.”

he let out an exasperated laugh “don’t be like that princess.”

-

an hour or so had passed and you were currently in jiyongs dressing room. he was sat in the chair looking in the vanity mirror as you stood behind him carding hair product through his hair to get all of the hairspray out of it.

“i should do your skincare too.” you piped up, eyes staring at him through the mirror.

his eyes locked onto you “why do i get the feeling you don’t really want to do my skincare.”

the corners of your mouth twitched up a little as you slowly moved your hands out of his hair and walked around before sitting your self on his lap straddling him.

you leaned your head forwards, your mouth pausing next to his ear “i don’t know you tell me.”

his breath shuddered as he felt your hot breath tickle his ear. he placed his hands on your thighs, the cold contact making you shiver. he slid one hand in between your legs until he reached your panties, he got to the fabric covering your clit and he pressed his cold fingers firmly down.

you squirmed, moving your hips expecting him to to start rubbing you but when he didn’t you paused. “why aren’t you doing anything.” you said already breathless from him touching you there.

the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen formed on his face as he kept his fingers halted. “you didn’t tell me what you wanted sweetheart.” he murmured.

you were appalled, how the hell was he going to turn you on like that and not do anything about it until you asked. “i’m not begging you.” you scowled already moving to get off him.

his free hand pressed down harder on your thigh stopping you from going anywhere. “nuh uh you’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you want me to do.” he paused “and how much you want it.”

you rolled your eyes. there was no way you were going to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much you needed him right now, his ego was big enough. “i don’t want you to do anything to me jiyong.” you said holding his gaze.

he let out a bitter laugh “funny you say that when i can literally feel how wet you are.” he said with a twitch of his fingers as if to remind you where he was touching you. “such a fucking brat, can’t even admit when you want me.”

your stomach flipped and you opened your mouth to try and answer him but you couldn’t speak. he was barely even trying and you were so flustered you couldn’t speak. embarassing.

he caught on and his smirk got bigger “so tell me sweetheart what was it that you wanted.” his eyes never left yours, his gaze dark and intense.

after a beat of silence you finally gave in and gave him what he wanted. half because you wanted,no needed, him so badly right now and half because you found it embarrassingly hot when he got like this.

“i want you jiyong, i want you to fuck me hard.” you said, breath shaking.

“what’s the magic word.” he teased, knowing you were getting impatient now so he pressed down harder.

you whimpered slightly “i want you to fuck me hard jiyong, please. i’m begging you.”

he hummed softly and wasted no time pulling your panties to the side and sliding two ring decorated fingers inside of you, pumping hard as you moved your hips to his rythm

you let out a loud moan that he silenced by pulling your head down and pressing his wet, hot mouth onto yours. you kissed him back just as forcefully, your teeth clashing with his as you demanded for entrance with your tongue.

he groaned as you slide your tongue into his mouth. you tasted like the strawberry milkshake gum you always chewed. you carried on riding his fingers moving your hips harder as he started going faster.

you pulled back from the kiss and whimpered. “jiyong i’m gonna come.” your hips were aching trying to keep up with his speed and your hands were practically ripping his hair out.

“ be a good girl and come for me.” he growled not slowing down one bit, letting you release like you needed.

you groaned as you came all over his finger, your breath shallow as you finally slowed down. he slid his fingers out of you and licked your cum off his fingers.

“fuck you taste so good, makes me want more.” he muttered.

before you could even process what he had said he was dragging you over to the small couch in the corner of the room. he laid back and dragged you on top of him.

“i want to taste you.” he said while looking into your eyes and unzipping your skirt the same time. “you know what to do don’t you?” he said almost teasingly when you didn’t say anything.

you swallowed hard, your eyes widening a little. he wanted you to ride his face? that’s what he was saying. you’d never expect him to be the type that enjoyed that, you’d never really done that together before. sure he’d eaten you out but never like this.

you sat yourself down on him, thighs settling around his head. he could feel you slightly hovering as if you didn’t want to put your whole weight on him out of fear.

he patted your ass “put your full weight on me, i want to feel it.” he said seriously reassuring you he could and wanted to take it.

you lowered yourself fully onto him feeling the stubble on his jaw rub on your inner thighs. you sighed as you felt his head in your thighs it felt so good.

jiyong groaned as he felt you settle down, his head nestled in your thighs it felt so warm and cosy. “good girl.” he said, voice muffled. he then darted his tongue out licking up between your folds.

you moaned and started slowly grinding on his face savoring the feeling of his tongue doing slow up and down motions on your throbbing clit. his hands started groping up your ass making you moan softly.

he kept getting gradually faster and you grinded on him in the same pace, so hard and fast you could feel the sting of where his stubble had rubbed on your inner thighs.

he started pressing kisses all up your wet and aching pussy. “so fucking perfect, your pussy’s perfect baby.” he said kissing every part practically worshipping you. “mhm carry on just like that, being so fucking good for me” he moaned.

the praise was doing numbers on you. you started going faster on his face and tightened your thighs around his face, hands gripping the wall infront of you.

eventually you came all in his mouth and around his lips with a moan and threw your head back as you done so. he swallowed it and licked around his lips. “good girl so good just for me.” he breathed out.

you panted as you relaxed your thighs. your body felt warm and tingly as you came down. “that was amazing” you breathed out exasperated.

jiyong smiled up at you “it really was we should do it more often.” he murmured as he gently caressed up your thighs, letting you come down for a second.

after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence he gently slid you off him before gently leading you to the vanity mirror.

“i want you to see yourself while i make you feel good” he said as he bent you over the vanity. you quietly obeyed as you felt your stomach being pressed against the cold table, your gaze was fixed downwards until you felt his hand firmly grip your jaw tilting it upwards so your eyes fell upon your reflection.

“i told you to look at yourself” he said sternly. “do as i say.”

you nodded obediently. you wanted him so bad you’d do anything he asked at this stage. you studied your reflection mascara running down your face, lipstick smudged at the corner of your lips, hair a wild mess and the dazed look in your eyes. you wondered how he could even want you right now.

as if he could read your thoughts he spoke up. “you look so beautiful after i ruin you” he said with a hint of possessiveness “all messed up because of me, you’re all mine.”

“im all yours jiyong.” your voice raspy. “please fuck me, show every who i belong to.”

he laughed. actually laughed. “you’re begging for it in your own will, i must look good tonight.” he smirked.

you swallowed looking at him through the mirror “please i need you.” you were practically yearning for his cock inside of you.

he unbuttoned his trousers and grabbed a condom but to his surprise your hand shot out and gripped his wrist tightly. “no i want to feel all of you.” you whispered, breath ragged.

he raised his brows in surprise, you usually wanted him to wear protection. “you sure jagi, i mean im not complaining but are you comfortable with that?” he asked tone gentle, a contrast to how he was speaking just moments ago.

you nodded desperately “yeah i want to feel all of it, please.” you were desperate now and just wanted him to get on with it.

he nodded and threw the condom aside moving his hands to your hips and shoved his aching cock in without warning. you let out a gasp as he fucked you hard, his warm firm cock slamming in and out of you making you sob.

he noticed the red rashes on your thighs from where his facial hair had made a rash from earlier “all these marks that i made hm” he said studying them “shows your all mine, no one else’s you hear me? mine.” he said with an even harder thrust to add emphasis.

you let out a loud cry as he went harder “fuck jiyong you’re so good please harder.” you begged.

“if that’s what you want.” he said huskily going impossibly harder on you. he looked at your reflection as he slammed into you repeatedly. “gosh you look so gorgeous falling apart just for me.” he murmured.

you looked at yourself a sobbing mess, your hands sliding up and down the mirror as he fucked you until you felt numb. “please i’m gonna come.” you cried.

he thrusted even harder at that “not now be a good girl and wait for me.” he slowed right down leaving himself deep inside you.

you gasped as he almost completely stopped inside of you, stopping you from releasing. “please jiyong.” you pleaded with him in hopes of him letting you come for him.

“dont speak back to me.” he almost snapped and spanked your ass so hard it left a hand print. “you do what i say and wait until i tell you that you can.” his voice stern.

you winced at the stinging sensation after he spanked you and knew not to go further so you quietly obeyed and let him stay inside of you and let you come on his own terms.

after a beat he started going again harder than before making a sob tear from your throat. “fucking come for me baby come on.” he said roughly, slamming himself in and out of you.

you sobbed until you finally let go with an almost scream and he slowly carried on thrusting as you done so. after you’d finished he done the same, releasing inside of you.

you stayed like that for awhile as you both caught your breaths until he eventually slid out and gently helped you up from your bent over position.

“let’s get you cleaned up baby.” he said softly pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “you done so good for me tonight.”

you leaned into his touch and sighed “i feel amazing.” you said quietly still slightly out of breath.

you both went into the connected bathroom and he sat you on the counter and reached for a cloth, soaking it in warm water. “okay open your legs for me doll.” he gently started to clean you up whispering sweet nothings as he done so.

you had a quick shower together and came back out into the dressing room wrapped up in soft towels (he had wrapped you in yours obviously) and he started walking towards his bag.

“i should have something for you to wear for the way home angel.” he said before coming back towards you with a hoodie and joggers which smelt strongly of his cologne.

you softly thanked him and changed, his soft gaze fixed on your body as you pulled on his clothes. when you’d finished he pulled you onto the couch with him.

“i hope i wasn’t too rough on you sweetheart” he said while pressing kisses to your cheeks and nose. you shook your head “no i liked it, it was the best time we’ve had.”

he chuckled softly “maybe i should start going harder on you everytime then.” he said as he started gently rubbing your back and cradled you to his chest.

comments and reblogs always appreciated<3

masterlist

taglist: scrapped mine message or comment if you wanna be tagged in my fics

[tabi87]

I. Just. Want. To. Leave. This. Here.

[justaweightonearth]

oneul bam uri freaky freaky hae yeah

[look-attthe-moon]

The Life Ahead: Ch. 13 (Trajectory Sequel)

Pairing: Choi Seunghyn x Fem Reader

Summary: You and your mother finally have a heart to heart in hopes of moving forward.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, language, adult themes/topics, mention of family member death, pregnancy, mention of oral (M receiving), sex.

Chapter Thirteen

When you wake the next day you roll over to see the clock reading almost noon. You toss on a pair of shorts and a tank top and glance in the mirror. Your mother knows you’re pregnant, so there’s no use in hiding your tiny bump anymore.

When you go downstairs you notice the framed wedding picture is now gone. Maybe Seunghyun talked some sense into her last night…

You round the corner to find Myeong sitting with your mother on the couch and Seunghyun on the loveseat across from them. Photo albums are spread on the coffee table between them.

“This was your Mom when she was your age…” you hear your mother explain. “She loved Disney so much. Here she’s dressed as Belle.”

You stand in the entryway for a moment taking it all in. Seeing your daughter in your childhood livingroom is still so surreal.

Seunghyun is slowly turning the pages of a photo album featuring your time in college. You settle in beside him as he greets you.

“Good morning.” He smiles.

“I think you mean good afternoon.” You chuckle. “I overslept.”

“You got the rest you needed. We are on vacation. No need to wake up early…”

“Morning Mama. Grandma showed me pictures of you from lots of different times.” Myeong grins. “Living here is different from home.”

You nod. “Florida is very different from Korea." You flip through a few pages of the photo album with Seunghyun passing images of you moving into your dorm, nights out with roommates and…

“This is an interesting picture.” He says, pointing to a photo of you kneeling on a dirty floor, holding the end of a beer bong.

Oh god…”That was taken at a house party. The guy I was seeing at the time was a Rugby player so, beer was plentiful.”

“In Korea, we just drink beer from the can or bottle.” He laughs.

“In America, clearly, chugging from a funnel is necessary.” You laugh. “I’ll have you know, I was the only girl at the party to chug a whole 40oz can without a break.”

Your husband just shakes his head. “I’m learning so much about you.”

“Who is that?” Myeong asks, pointing to a photograph. You realize it’s your father.

“That’s your…grandpa.” Your mom says quietly.

“He doesn’t live here?” Your daughter asks inquisitively. “Can we go see him?”

You feel a pang of sadness.

“He…he…” your mother can’t finish her sentence.

You take a moment and just come clean. “No, we can’t Mye. He died. A long time ago.” You say calmly as Seunghyun places his hand on your knee. “Before I came to Korea and met your Appa.”

Myeong studies her grandmother's face and yours. “That makes you sad. You miss him…”

“We do Moon Beam. Very much.”

She hops off the couch and climbs into your lap. “I wish me and Agi could meet him.”

A tear rolls down your cheek as your daughter wipes it away with her hand. “Me too baby, me too…”

“He would’ve loved you so much.” Your mom adds before leaving the room.

“Here.” You say sliding off the couch onto the floor. “These are some of my favorite pictures of him.” You walk your daughter though some of your favorite memories with your Dad. Camping, paddle boarding with manatees. Your childhood was always rich with adventure.

“Karaoke!” Myeong points to a photo of your Dad posing dramatically with a microphone at a random family member’s birthday.

You laugh. “He loved to sing. Silly songs especially.”

“Appa likes to sing too.” She says, making a connection.

“Mmhmm, he does. Your Appa and grandpa both like to sing.”

You hear rustling in the kitchen. Seunghyun takes this as a sign for you and your mother to talk.

“Let’s get ready and go swimming Mye.” He smiles, prompting her to head upstairs.

Myeong hops off your lap and runs up the staircase.

“You need to eat something.” Seunghyun says before placing a kiss on your forehead. “And you need to talk to her.”

You exhale loudly in agreement. He helps you off the floor and you head to the kitchen.

Your Mom turns to you, eyes red from crying. “I’ll make you lunch…no egg this time.” She says as she wipes her face, forcing a smile.

You take a seat on the stool at the kitchen island, like you once did as a child.

“What sounds good?” She asks, trying her hardest to appease you.

“Honestly? A peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“I can make that happen.” She laughs, grabbing the bread. “Still a strawberry jam girl over grape?”

“Always.” You smile. For the first time in years, you feel a connection with your mom you thought was lost. “They’re hard to come by in Korea.”

“I would imagine so…”

You hear Seunghyun and Myeong make their way downstairs, Myeong barely acknowledging you as she runs to the back patio.

“Wait for Appa!” You and Seunghyun speak in unison, stopping her in her tracks.

“You two are good at that.” She says, as she cuts your sandwich into perfect triangles.

“We make a good team.” Seunghyun says, glancing over at what your mom is preparing.

“Don’t worry, I’m feeding her.” She warns. “Believe it or not, I took care of her first. Your input isn’t required.”

He frowns at the jab.

“Appaaaaaaaaa…let’s swim!!!!” Myeong calls out.

“Okay, okay…let’s go.” He says, heading towards the patio.

“He hovers over you…” your mom says, passing the PB&J over to you.

“No, he’s caring and considerate.” You say before taking a bite. You close your eyes as the sandwich takes you back to your childhood.

“Is it that good?” Your mom laughs.

“It is. I’m going to have to indulge in all the classic childhood staples while we are here. Don’t get me wrong, I love Korea but having a simple PB&J is really doing it for me right now.” You say before taking another bite.

Your mother leans back against the counter and exhales loudly.

Here we go…

“You never had to leave all this you know.”

“Mom…”

“I just don’t understand. You left because you didn’t want to deal with everything with David but you went on to go through it with TOP…”

“Seunghyun…”

“Yes, him…and…”

“Mom, we didn’t do fertility treatments. Meyong was…”

“An accident?” She questions.

“Unexpected. I thought I couldn't have children…we decided we didn’t want children. Then life had other plans.”

She looks at you puzzled.

“After Myeong, we decided we did want more children but it wasn’t working out in our favor at first…”

“Until it did.” She adds, arms crossed. “So you got lucky twice?”

“Everything happens for a reason as they say, so here we are. Seunghyun had a vasectomy in December so…this is it.” You smile nervously.

“I just wish you were here in this position with David…”

You drop your sandwich. “For one moment can you just stop and understand that David was horrible for me? Look outside.” You say pointing to the back patio. “Seunghyun is a wonderful father. Mye loves him more than anyone in the world. David wasn’t worthy of being the father to my children. That’s why things didn’t work out. My life has turned out exactly how it should.”

Your mom turns to face the patio. Seunghyun is in the pool catching Myeong as she runs off the edge, leaping into his arms over and over again. Her laughter echoes in the backyard.

“I’m happy and well taken care of. Isn’t that enough? Don’t you want that for me?” You look to her, seeking an answer.

“I want you here. In America…at home.” She replies, tears in her eyes.

“I love my life in Korea. That is home now.”

She exhales a shaky breath and turns away from you.

“I am trying Mom, really I am. We are never going to move forward if you don’t just accept this. I want to tell you about my life, share what you missed when Mye was born, and have you be a more permanent part of our lives but I can’t do that if you don’t let go of David and the idea of the life I could’ve had. This is my life now, and it’s not going anywhere. Can you not just be happy that I am happy?”

You look to her for a response but instead, she leaves the room. You shake away any tears that were forming and join your family outside.

__________________________

Your Mother makes herself scarce the rest of the day, asking to take Myeong to the park and out for dinner just the two of them. You happily oblige in hopes that she will come to her senses.

“I take it the talk didn’t go as planned?” Seunghyun asks as the two of you cuddle in the spare room.

“She’s still hung up on the past.” You sigh into his chest. “I told her I was willing to move on and include her more, but she’s going to have to accept that you are my life now.”

“If she can’t accept that then you’re right, we will have to separate ourselves from her moving forward. I don’t want Myeong or Agi subjected to that forever…” Seunghyun says in a serious tone.

“Agreed.” You exhale. “We can see how things go at Disney tomorrow and with Mye’s birthday party. If she doesn’t realize by then we can move on…”

You’re about to drift off to sleep when you feel Seunghyun shift beside you, his hand wandering down the waistband of your shorts.

“What are you doing Mr. T-Oh-P?” You ask sleepily.

”Just taking advantage of the situation…home alone…with you, in bed…” He toys with the fabric of your underwear. “We could have a quickie…then I could take you out to dinner.”

You look up at his boyish grin. “Such a gentleman.” You jest as you feel him slip his fingers inside you, causing you to release a quiet moan.

”Hmm, I don’t hear you protesting.”

“N-never.’ You moan as you reach for him, pulling him closer before shifting your weight to straddle him.

“This was my idea.” He laughs.

”And now I am taking over…” You slide his shorts down just enough to free him, taking his length in your hand, causing him to release a low groan. “You like?”

“Y-yes.” He breathes.

You shift position and lean over, taking him in your mouth, his hand immediately gripping your hair as you bob up and down.

After a few moments he holds your head in place as you take all of him. His hips bucking upwards into your mouth. “Filthy girl…” he says as he touches the back of your throat.

You pull back to take a breath. “I think I’d like you to fuck me now.” You say with a wink.

He flips you quickly onto your back, stripping you of your shorts, then pushes your legs open as he thrusts into you.

”This what you wanted, Princess?”

Your only response you give is you moaning in pleasure at the sensation of him filling every inch of you.

_______________________

Just like he promised, he took you out to dinner afterwards. Like typical tourists, you end up in Disney Springs at The Boathouse in the private dining room overlooking the lake. After dinner, Seunghyun insists on going shopping where he purchases way too many Disney themed gender neutral baby clothing items.

“You’re being very American right now, you know that?”

”When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” He grins, holding up the bags.

When you return home it's late. Your Mom was gracious enough to get Myeong ready for bed so she's already asleep when you walk in.

”We really appreciate your help tonight, Patricia.” Seunghyun says, entering the living room.

”You’re welcome…Se..unghuyn.” She says slowly.

A new development…

He smiles wide back at her.

“I want to try.” She says. “Myeong helped me practice today.”

”Well you have a great teacher.” You add. “Did you two have a nice time?”

”We did. She told me all about school and her friends. She also gave me a lesson in art history and BigBang.”

Seunghyun blushes.

”Like I have said before, she loves her Appa…in all his forms.” You smile, placing a hand on his face.

”I…want to apologize. I have been. Irrational for far too long.”

Her apology takes you by surprise. “Oh…well I…”

”Myeong helped me realize today that you were right. This is the life you were meant to live. TOP…I mean…Seunghyun, the things Myeong said about you…it's clear how deeply you love your family and…I just…know there is no one that could care for these girls in the way that you do.”

You feel yourself getting emotional. You look at your husband, whose eyes have become glassy.

”Y/N, I understand now. I am so sorry for everything I put you through all those years ago. I-I am ready to move forward and be there for your family. If you’ll let me. I want to be a part of your life with him and Myeong…and…the baby.”

You don’t say anything. You just run over and hug her. You have been waiting to hear this. You accepted long ago that you maybe never would. Now that you hear the words, relief washes over you and you sob. You know part of it could be due to hormones, but there is something about a mother’s love that is just different and you have needed it for so long.

__________________________

The next day at Disney, you and your Mom stay close while Seunghyun and Myeong ride all the rides they can together in Magic Kingdom. The two of you are on a park bench in Fantasyland enjoying a Dole Whip.

“Are you hanging in there?” She asks.

”I am.” You smile. “I finally have my energy back. I’m much better than I was a few weeks ago.” You say, reflecting on the days leading up to finding out.

”You never really shared how you found out. Was it a surprise?”

”Not exactly. We’ve always wanted a sibling for Mye; we just didn’t think it was in the cards for us. I got really sick a few months ago and well…Seunghyn just had a feeling and here we are. Turns out, I am really bad at realizing I’m pregnant.” You laugh.

”He knows you well. It’s been interesting getting to know him the last few days. He's a good man.”

You feel your cheeks warm. “He has always been nothing but a gentleman and truly, one of the most caring men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Even before Mye was born he was like this. We work really well together.”

“Well, clearly you both know what you're doing on the parenting front. Myeong is such a bright, outgoing child for being only 4 years old. She will be an excellent big sister. Going from one to two isn’t that difficult. It’s when they get older that they cause problems.”

You nod, taking a bite of your ice cream, your smile fading.

She notices and turns to face you. ”You’re worried?”

“Not about transitioning from one to two…I’m…” You reflect on Myeong’s birth and your depression. “I had a traumatic experience when Mye was born…and that led to me having really bad postpartum depression…”

Your Mom places a hand on your leg. “Honey, I didn’t…”

”I know, you didn’t know because I’ve never told you. My therapist has been a big help, and our friends Nari and Ji really stepped up when I was…really bad. It was traumatic. And now my fear is it will happen again and the thought of something happening to me and leaving Mye and Seunghyun to raise a baby alone is…”

”Scary to think about.” She finishes your sentence. “Your doctor knows what to look for right?”

“They’re prepared this time, or they say they are. I missed so much of Myeong’s first hours in the hospital. And when we got home, the depression took me away from both of them for weeks until I got help. I just want this baby to have me as their mother from the beginning.”

“Just because it happened once, doesn’t mean it will happen again.” She reassures you. “What if…” she starts her sentence, then stops to collect herself. “What if this time, I come stay with you? After the baby is born.”

You look at her in disbelief. “You mean you’d come to Korea?”

”Yes.” She nods. “If you’ll have me, I’ll come. Stay with you for a few weeks, help you get settled and adjusted. Give you and Seunghyun time together with the baby alone, help Myeong feel included.”

”Mom that…that would be great. A huge help, honestly.” You say, stunned.

“Then consider it done. I will block off the time and be there for you. You deserve to have help, I owe it to you after everything.” She smiles.

”Thank you, Mom. Really.” You say embracing her.

”MAMA!!!!!” You hear Myeong shouting across the park as she runs to you.

”Hi baby girl! Are you having fun with Appa riding rides?”

“Yes! We went on a Snow White ride and then Peter Pan, SPINNING TEACUPS, and a Goofy rollercoaster! But now I’m hungry…”

Seunghyun kisses the top of your head, then takes a bite of your Dole Whip. “Lunch?”

You agree. “Agi wants a corn dog from Casey’s Corner."

“Lead the way.” He smiles.

The rest of the day is spent meeting characters, riding all the pregnancy safe rides you can with your family, various Mickey shaped treats, and ends with fireworks.

Myeong is on Seunghyun’s shoulders, one hand holding her leg securely, the other wrapped loosely around your waist. Your mother snaps a quick photo, forever memorializing the moment. The day has been nothing short of perfect.

On the way home, you check your email to find the lab results from your last appointment. Myeong is curled against your mom, both of them drifting in and out of sleep.

You open the email and nudge Seunghyun. “My lab results are back.”

“The gender?” He asks, sitting up quickly.

Your heart rate intensifies as you read through the doctor’s notes regarding your bloodwork. “Everything’s within normal range…healthy…” you scan the email for the link to the gender reveal.

Seunghyun takes your free hand in his, squeezing it tight. “I’m nervous.” He chuckles. “This is the last time we get to experience this.”

“It’s bittersweet. The completion of our family…” You look up at him sensing some apprehension. You see the link on your phone, your thumb hovering over it. You take a deep breath. “Okay, Agi is a…”

————————————————————————-

Tag List: @lunaryasha @seb-styles @0dang0atama @keiraryan @millytugby @sayugarper @moon-topttt @missseoull @babyvick @seungttttop @bestofmyyears @jaytalksnonesense @ermie @bruhmoonlight @profglazer @iluvtabiii @hafdis-hem @loverofmusic0027 @gamergirlblitzz @charlenethecattt @seunghyunsnosehair @choiseunghyunslefthairstrand @skittles915 @choiseunghyunwifwxx4 @tabi123456 @bellaglover18 @thevelvetseries @evilburg3r @mcmonomali @blueprincessangel

[slowburnpages]

heyyy anet :)))

i know ur requests are paused rn, but maybe could you write something based on jiyong’s song bonamana??

i love reading ur stories! and you never disappoint!!! hope you have fun writing! thank youuu xxx

Hi, my dear! Thank you so much for your sweet words, they genuinely mean a lot to me, and thank you for your request too! I hope you’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚

About story: Your return to Seoul was supposed to be professional, controlled, and completely detached from the past. But one exclusive assignment brings you face to face with Jiyong again,the man you spent three years trying to forget. What starts as a private tour of his new trainee facility quickly turns into a dangerous reunion behind the closed doors of a mirrored practice room, while your husband waits just a few hallways away… Pairing: Jiyong (G-Dragon) x Reader Word Count: 4,527 | Oneshot Content Note: Exes to lovers, infidelity/adultery, unresolved feelings, guilt, jealousy, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, semi-public sex, mirror sex, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, praise/degradation elements, manipulation, toxic attraction, open ending

The return to Seoul was basically your own free choice. It was a kind of promotion, a chance to lead your own team at the magazine, and you told yourself it had nothing to do with the fact that you spent three years running away from something that exhausted you beyond belief. Sometimes memories simply rise to the surface, usually at the least appropriate moments, like when you’re having dinner with your husband… or when you’re having sex with him. In those moments, Jiyong’s mouth sometimes comes back to you, his hands, the way he looked at you as if he could see straight into the deepest, most hidden parts of your soul…

After breaking up with Jiyong, you returned to Europe, found a job as the editor-in-chief of a magazine, met a great man, got married… everything was exactly as it was supposed to be, and all of it helped you forget Jiyong… and then your boss gave you a very specific assignment:

“Kwon Jiyong is revolutionizing the K-pop training system. You have exclusive access to the grand opening. Bring me something juicy, the way only you can!”

In that moment, you almost turned the offer down, already searching your mind for a suitable excuse as to why you, of all people, weren’t the right person for this story. You didn’t want to return to Seoul. You didn’t want to stand there, surrounded by fellow journalists who had no idea that you were the one who used to let the star of tonight’s event fuck you in bathrooms and any other place where you could have been caught at any moment.

But saying no would mean admitting that you were still afraid of how you and your body would react when you saw Jiyong again, admitting that he still affected you in some way… and your pride would never allow that.

The facilities really are impressive, you can’t deny Jiyong that. He clearly drew from his own experience and from everything he lacked most as a trainee. The practice rooms are high-end, the dormitory for the trainees doesn’t look like a prison, and the trainees have access to nutritionists, psychological help and support, simply everything that the old, outdated, slightly too harsh and rigid system was missing. He covered everything he didn’t have as a teenager, when he slept four hours a day and starved himself to meet almost impossible standards.

You noticed him the moment you stepped inside, and you didn’t even need to see him. Your body had always registered his presence before your eyes did. He’s talking to a group of his colleagues, and he still looks just as perfect and confident as ever.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Your husband’s voice beside you pulls you out of that trance, out of the embarrassing staring at Jiyong, and drags you back to reality. He’s a photographer, which is actually how the two of you met, because you started working together. You agreed to marry him far too quickly for your taste, because you wanted to fill the emptiness that remained inside you after breaking up with Jiyong.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, taking a glass of champagne from him. “I’m just thinking about the article,” you add and take a sip, because you realize how dry your throat has become.

“Kwon Jiyong really is a genius,” your husband says. He sees you watching Jiyong, but he doesn’t take it as something threatening, because Jiyong is the star of tonight’s event and all the attention in the room is directed at him… after all, your husband doesn’t know that you used to date Jiyong, or that it was the most intense relationship you’ve ever experienced in your life. “He’s so good at identifying flaws and gaps, drawing from his own experience and still turning it into excellent promo… He can turn everything upside down.”

Turn everything upside down… how fitting for Jiyong.

“I saw my former colleague from Tokyo. Do you mind if I go over to him for a moment? I’ll be right back,” he says and kisses your hair.

“Sure, of course,” you smile back at him and feel a heavy sense of guilt, because right now you’re only capable of thinking about Jiyong. Nervously, you move to the corner of the room, and the hands holding your notes with questions for the official press conference tremble slightly.

“I was wondering whether you’d show up, Y/N,” a very familiar voice sounds behind you, running from your ears all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“I think you approved the list of journalists, so you knew very well I’d be here,” you answer calmly as you turn to face Jiyong. He’s closer than you expected and even more beautiful than you remember.

“I approved the list of magazines. Your name was just a bonus… though your last name has changed,” he says in an calm voice, and his gaze drifts to your wedding ring.

“I have questions,” you say, unconsciously hiding the hand with your wedding ring behind your back, as if that could change the fact that you’re married.

“I bet you do,” Jiyong smirks smugly.

“Professional questions… for my article,” you add, trying to let him know he’s not as amazing as he thinks he is, even though you know he is…

“Ah, right…” Jiyong nods, the smirk never leaving his lips. He vaguely gestures toward the crowd of journalists near the stage. “You can wait for the official press conference and tour like everyone else. It starts in half an hour.”

“It’s hard to get something original when thirty other journalists and reporters keep asking the same questions over and over… I don’t like these group events,” you say simply.

“Do you want something exclusive, then? Private access?”

The tone Jiyong uses when he says the word private, and the way he raises one eyebrow in amusement with that spark in his eyes—the one that was always there and clearly still is—almost make your knees buckle, but you try not to show it.

“I mainly want to understand your vision, Jiyong. The old system was brutal, we both know that… So what makes this any different? Why is it worth talking about, apart from the fact that it’ll give you more excellent promo?”

“You want to know what makes it different?”

“Yes, that’s my job,” you answer and roll your eyes, because this conversation is making you more and more nervous, and you don’t know how else to release the tension from your body except through exaggerated gestures and expressions.

“Then come with me,” he takes a step back and nods his head for you to follow. “The practice rooms… that’s where it all begins, because that’s where trainees spend most of their time. I designed them from scratch. The floors, the mirrors, the sound…” He pauses for a moment. “It’ll probably be better if you see it instead of listening to me talk about it in abstract terms.”

You know for certain that you should say a clear no right now and wait for the group tour that starts in less than half an hour, before the press conference. Somewhere in the room, your husband is probably looking for you to bring you another glass of champagne, and here you are, actually considering letting yourself fall into the trap again.

You blink several times as all you see now is Jiyong’s back as he walks away, and in that moment, your feet move of their own accord, blindly following him.

Fuck

You follow Jiyong through the building, past groups of guests and staff, past doors marked Staff Only that open with a key card. With every step, the noise fades, replaced only by the hum of the air-conditioning and the too-loud thumping of your heart.

You stumble slightly behind Jiyong, trying to match your steps and pace to his.

“How long have you been back in Seoul? A week?” he asks without turning around.

“Two weeks, actually,” you say, finally speeding up enough to walk beside him.

“Two weeks and you didn’t even call…” he says with mock reproach, throwing you a glance.

“Why would I call you?”

“I don’t know…” he shrugs vaguely. “Maybe just to reminisce about the good old days.”

“Old days? Maybe… Good? That’s debatable…”

“Ow, you’re still just as cruel,” he says dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as he finally stops at the end of the hallway with a card in his hand and turns to face you. The lighting at this end of the corridor is dimmer and colder. The LED lights throw sharp shadows across his face.

The card beeps against the reader and the door opens. This practice room still smells brand new, and it’s larger than you expected. The floor is made of light wood, polished to a mirror-like shine that almost blinds you when Jiyong turns on the large ceiling lights. Three of the four walls are covered in mirrors from floor to ceiling, and the fourth wall is entirely made of glass, overlooking Seoul, providing plenty of daylight during the day.

The mirrors fascinate you because they’re everywhere. Everywhere you look, you see yourself… fragmented, reflected from every angle and… you see Jiyong too, standing just behind you, watching your expression through the mirror.

“This is the main room,” he says close behind you before stepping in front of you. His voice echoes lightly through the empty space. “Top-tier sound system, AC, sprung floors, because we don’t want our trainees destroying their joints after their first six months of training…but the most important thing is the mirrors… I’d say they’re the alpha and omega.”

“Mirrors are standard in practice rooms.”

“Good observation,” he says, moving closer to one of the mirrored walls. “But these are still a little different… Come here.” He gestures for you to come closer, and you reluctantly step nearer to him, nearer to the mirrors. “Here, they’ll learn to see themselves clearly… No one expects them to be perfect or flawless, but they need to understand that they have to work with their bodies, not fight against them.”

“Impressive,” you say quietly and uncertainly, when you catch Jiyong’s reflection still standing behind you.

“Did you expect anything else from me?” he asks, and you feel his warm breath against your ear as he looks at you through the mirror without blinking.

“I expected something less thought-out,” you say, not taking your eyes off his reflection.

“You’re still so bratty and—”

“That’s what you always liked about me,” you cut him off sharply.

Jiyong laughs, shakes his head, and lowers his eyes for a moment and breaking your eye contact. “I liked a lot of things about you,” he says, and you watch as his right hand moves from your wrist, along your forearm, until it slips beneath your sleeve and rests on your shoulder. You feel yourself shiver under the touch. “Your attitude, your anger, the way you loved starting fights just so you’d have something to win…”

“What are you doing, Jiyong?” you breathe out, turning your head toward him. You can feel your breathing and your pulse speeding up dangerously.

“I’m just showing you my new concept… but you look a little nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you mutter, swallowing as your cheeks burn.

You’ve fallen into his trap again…

“Really? Then why is your breathing faster? Why are your hands shaking?”

“My hands aren’t shaking.”

“No? Then look…”

Jiyong places his hands on your hips and makes you step closer to the mirrored wall, forcing you to look at your own reflection again. You see your flushed face, your tense jaw, your slightly trembling hands, and you feel his body pressed against your back.

“Do you think about me even when you’re with your husband?” he asks quietly. “Because I think about you all the time. I keep waiting for a door to open and for you to be standing there…”

“I don’t think about you,” you mutter, unable to look away from Jiyong’s eyes in the mirror.

“Liar,” he says with a smirk.

In the reflection, you watch him lower his head and press his warm lips to your neck.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you? I can tell. I always could. You always start squirming like this…” he adds, then drags his tongue over the pulse point in your neck, forcing a sharp breath out of you.

That’s when you start to realize there’s no getting out of this trap anymore.

You don’t have enough strength to respond to his words. All you can do is watch your reflection, your flushed cheeks, your slightly parted lips, and Jiyong kissing your neck with his hands on your hips.

“You always reacted so sensitive to every touch of mine,” he whispers. “So quickly... You were so easy to read once I learned how to recognize it…”

“I’ve changed.”

“Really?” You feel him smile against your neck as one of his hands moves from your hip to your thigh, lifting the fabric of your dress and pushing it higher little by little. “Do you want me to stop?”

You don’t answer, and Jiyong takes your silence as permission to continue. He pushes your dress higher, and when his fingers find the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, only a short distance from your pussy, you can’t stop yourself. You gasp sharply, tilt your head back, and rest it against Jiyong’s shoulder.

“I remember you on your knees with your mascara smudged… I remember the way you moaned please, as if it was the only word you knew…” he whispers, turning his head toward you while yours is still tipped back against his shoulder.

His fingers finally touch the thin, soaked fabric of your panties, and he exhales in satisfaction before kissing your ear. “Three years… three years, and you’re still dripping for me…” he mutters as his fingers push the fabric of your panties aside and begin circling your clit with practiced precision.

“Ji…” you whisper, almost breathless, before turning toward Jiyong and kissing him hard.

You bite his lower lip, and Jiyong moans into your mouth. It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve heard in the last three years. His hands are everywhere… on your hips, your ass, your thighs… He pulls you against him with such hunger that you know this was his plan from the beginning, maybe from the moment you walked into this damn building.

You kiss him with the same force he kisses you, digging your fingers into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. It isn’t gentle, because nothing between you has ever really been gentle. It’s raw instead, hungry, almost violent in the way it consumes you both.

Jiyong pushes you backward until you’re standing in the corner where two mirrored walls meet, and you gasp when he presses your back against the cold surface of the mirror.

“Do you still like fucking in semi-public places?” you breathe out as his lips find your neck again and his teeth graze your oversensitive skin. “Is your penthouse with its big luxury bed still not enough for you?”

“My bed was good enough when you were in it,” he growls against your neck, his hands gripping your thigh and hip so tightly that you tilt your head back again, giving his greedy lips, tongue, and teeth easier access. “But I also remember that you were the one who couldn’t wait and threw herself at me backstage at MAMA and—”

“You started that,” you moan, sliding your fingers into his hair because you need to touch him, need to pull him as close as possible.

“And you finished it… Three times, if I remember correctly,” he mutters before dropping to his knees.

The movement is so quick that you barely have time to react. He lifts your dress, and his fingers hook into the edges of your panties without hesitation, pulling them down your thighs. You step out of them without protest and kick them aside.

“God…” you breathe out when his hot tongue drags over your folds for the first time.

You sway slightly, trying to steady yourself with one hand against the smooth mirror while your other hand slips back into Jiyong’s hair. His tongue keeps moving over you, and every now and then, almost carelessly, the tip of it flicks over your clit. He eats you with such precision and confidence because he knows exactly what you need, exactly what you like, and he’s only deciding how quickly he’s going to give it all to you.

“Look at yourself,” he mutters, his voice vibrating against your clit. “I said look,” he growls, lifting his gaze to you, and with the last of your strength, you open your eyes and turn your head.

In the reflection of the mirrored wall beside you, you see your flushed face, your parted lips, your fingers buried deep in Jiyong’s hair, and Jiyong on his knees with his head between your thighs, his hands gripping your ass firmly to keep you exactly where he wants you.

“Just like that,” he says, pulling away only enough to look at your reflection in the mirror.

Your eyes fall to his glossy mouth in the reflection, to the hair you’ve ruined with your fingers, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning. He looks so perfect, so painfully perfect that you don’t even notice your wedding ring glinting on your finger in the mirror…

“Jiyong, I…”

You don’t get to finish, because you moan again when his mouth closes around your sensitive clit and sucks. Your hips jerk against his face on their own, trying to meet him. Jiyong doesn’t resist. Quite the opposite. He lets you grind against his tongue and mouth as if you’re using him for your own pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good, exactly how I remember,” he growls as he pushes two fingers into you without warning, and your knees almost give out. “Does your husband make you feel this good too? Does he know what your pussy needs? What you need?”

“No,” you answer almost immediately, pushing your hips toward his fingers as they hit that sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Mmm,” he hums against your clit while he keeps fucking you with his fingers, because your answer gives him exactly the satisfaction he needed to hear.

His tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers work with deliberate intensity, making you see stars. You tighten your grip in his hair, so hard that he growls in satisfaction, and the pressure of his mouth grows stronger, his tongue moving faster against your clit.

“God…” you moan louder, your thighs starting to tremble uncontrollably along with the rest of your body. “Don’t stop, I’m so close…”

Jiyong doesn’t stop until a powerful wave of orgasm tears through you, and if he weren’t holding you, you would probably collapse straight onto the polished floor. You gasp for breath. You can’t think. You can only feel, only hear how loudly you’re moaning his name under the weight of the aftershocks while your fingers tighten in his hair and he slows the movement of his mouth and tongue, guiding you through every last shudder.

After a moment, Jiyong finally stands without letting go of you, still holding you firmly so you don’t lose your balance. He’s breathing heavily, and your gaze drops to the strained fabric of his pants, to the obvious bulge there, and another wave of arousal rolls through you before the first one has even fully faded.

You look at him. He is disheveled and rock-hard enough that it must hurt.

“Do I deserve you?” he asks breathlessly, but he doesn’t wait for your answer before kissing you again. You taste yourself on his tongue. His palms grip your hips again as he pulls you closer, then turns you around so you’re facing the mirrors you’ve almost forgotten about.

“Keep your hands here,” he says, placing your palms against the cold surface of one of the mirrors, and all you can do is nod because your breathing still won’t let you speak.

You hear him unbuckling his belt and watch him in the reflection as he does it. His flushed cheeks, clenched jaw, focused expression, his desire… he looks more perfect than ever.

“Look at yourself,” he mutters when his trousers are pushed down somewhere around his knees and he’s rubbing his rock-hard cock against your ass. “You’re so beautiful, so desperate just like me…you need my cock inside you so badly…” He pumps himself a few times, then drags the tip against your still-wet folds. “Do you want me? Do you want my cock in your pussy as much as I do?”

You can’t form words. All you can do is wait impatiently for the moment he finally pushes into you and fills you.

“I don’t hear anything… Where are your manners?” he mutters, still circling the tip of his cock around your entrance while his lips latch onto your neck again.

“Jiyong, please…” you moan, lifting one hand to slide it into his hair without taking your eyes off the reflection in the mirror.

Jiyong thrusts into you in one hard motion, forcing you to cry out louder, and your pussy clenches around his cock immediately as it tries to adjust to his size. The cold mirror chills your palm, but the heat of Jiyong’s body burns against you almost unbearably.

“Look at us,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making your muscles clench around him again. “We belong together… and your husband has no idea what I’m doing to you in here…”

You try to dig your nails into the mirror in front of you with every one of Jiyong’s thrusts, watching his reflection with helpless fascination. His intense gaze, his eyes full of desire and complete loss of control. Jiyong holds your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he starts thrusting harder, mercilessly, picking up his pace. It’s as if he’s trying to make up for everything he’s missed over the past three years, just as much as you are.

“Does he make you feel like this? Do you think about me when he touches you?” he breathes hoarsely, slowing for a moment only to thrust deeper into you. “Answer me,” he demands when you don’t reply.

He grabs your chin and forces you to turn your head back toward him. Your eyes meet his, that dark, focused, burning gaze that has always made your knees weak. Before you can say anything, he kisses you. Your lips part under the pressure of his mouth, and the kiss is hungry, desperate, full of all the passion neither of you has managed to release properly in the last three years.

As he kisses you, his free hand slides from your hip back between your thighs, and you start trembling uncontrollably again. You tilt your head back and look into the mirror, now fogged slightly from your hot breaths.

“You’re so beautiful when you can’t control yourself, when you get this wet for me, Y/N…only for me,” he whispers, looking at your reflection so he can meet your eyes. “You were never his, Y/N… You’re only mine… all of you, aren’t you?”

“Yes… God, yes,” you admit helplessly, pushing your hips toward his fingers as they tease your clit again and pace you toward another orgasm.

His fingers move faster, matching his harder, deeper thrusts, and your pussy begins to tighten around his cock again. Your whole body tenses, and you choke on your own moans. Jiyong pounds into your trembling body, enjoying every reaction he pulls out of you until you clench around him violently, and after a few final thrusts, he comes inside you with a low, guttural growl.

For a while, the two of you only breathe. Your head rests against his shoulder, and Jiyong’s face is buried in your neck. You don’t know how long the moment lasts before he reaches into his pocket, pulls out some tissues, and cleans both of you up. When you pull your dress back down over your hips and try to fix yourself, you remember your husband, and guilt hits you all at once. Just a few meters away, he’s waiting for you. Maybe checking his watch nervously, completely unaware of what you’ve just done.

You check yourself in the mirror, fixing your appearance, when Jiyong catches your wrist and studies your wedding ring. “Your husband doesn’t have very good taste, I’d say…” he mutters. “I would have chosen better… and my penthouse is still empty. I’ll give you anything. You just have to give us one more chance...”

You pull your hand out of his grip and suddenly don’t know what to say.

“It wouldn’t work, Jiyong. We’ve tried too many times,” you say, but the certainty is missing from your voice. Your head is still lowered when you reach for your handbag, which has been lying on the floor until now, and pull out your business card. The address of your new Seoul office is printed on it.

“This is my address. I’ll send you the draft of the article, and if there’s anything you don’t like or anything you want changed, you can find me here,” you say, knowing exactly how obvious your wish is. The wish that this won’t be the last time you see each other…

Jiyong takes your business card, and his lips curl into a satisfied smile. To him, it’s an invitation to the next round of this dangerous game.

You can’t bear that smug look on his face any longer, so you turn away and leave through the door with bated breath, walking quickly. You make your way back through the corridors toward the main hall until the noise of the guests reaches you again.

Your husband is already waiting for you by the small bar and looking around impatiently with two glasses of champagne in his hands.

“Where were you, sweetheart? I was starting to worry you’d miss the start of the press conference…” he says with concern.

“Sorry,” you smile and take one of the glasses from his hand. “I had to disappear for a moment, but I got some great material for the article.”

Your husband smiles brightly and wraps an arm around your waist. “I’m so proud of you. This is such a great start for your journalism career here in Seoul…”

A really great start…

You glance over your shoulder into the crowd. On the other side of the room stands Jiyong. He’s leaning casually against the wall, getting ready for the start of the official press conference. For a moment, his eyes find yours. He watches your husband hold you around the waist, the same place his own hands had touched only minutes ago… and in his hand, he calmly turns over the business card you gave him just a little while ago.

You know you’ve just signed another contract with the devil. And you know you’ve never really cured yourself of this addiction called Jiyong…

💚 Taglist: @ldydeath @strawinyourdrink @chocomintlatey @babyzzzzz @cchapssaltteok @lolzworld @jiyongsbaby88 @kikokikokikokikokiko @jiyongsraven @jiyongiie @finallyremembered @honeebee1318 @hex-girls-stuff @bunnygirlgonewild @headinthecloudswithpeanutbutter @kitty-catttttss @aemrsy @yourphobiavi @thanosspills @imthefreakyg @troyjnis @megs-orbittt @lilshu65 @sanniix33 @missleezylou @gdtabibaby @stacyyyystami @thatxxdarling

[papxj]

👿 Thanos: a million-subscriber YouTuber with two degrees and no love life.

💖 Nammi: a streamer unaware of his biggest fan.

[murmurphyy]